Really?
by Hasshath
Summary: Derek/Scott: Things take an odd turn, leaving Scott and Derek to deal with the aftermath. TAlpha!Scott, Alpha!Derek
1. Prelude

_First story. Ever! So, please be honest but non-insulting in reviews. Also, Derek/Scott—there's not enough of that around here. M/M relationship. AU as of Season 2, post episode 10 'Fury'. No like, no read._

_And… I make no money on this. No copyright infringement intended, etc._

_On with the story!_

_Prelude_

He tossed restlessly, half awake, feverish and uncomfortable.

"Scott?"

Voice. So familiar. Whose?

"Scott, it's time to wake up."

A hand tugging covers away from his face, the shock of cool air making him whine low in his throat.

"Scott?" the hand moved to his forehead as he came to full consciousness.

"Oh, Scott, you're burning up. I'll call school."

His mother left his room and he heard her make her way over to her own and the phone therein. Scott forced himself up, wavered, and moved to drag a shirt on. By the time he was actually dressed, his mother was back in his doorway.

"Scott, you can't go to school like this."

"Not," he grunted, glad his mother knew of his… _condition._ "Werewolves don't _get_ sick, Mom. I need to see Derek."

Melissa paused, then nodded. "I have enough time to take you before work. I'll have to leave you there, though—is that all right?"

"Derek has a car," Scott pointed out, "and, despite some evidence to the contrary, he's not heartless."

Melissa chuckled and led her boy out to the car, "Fair enough."

_xxxx_

Derek's head snapped up at the sound of a car outside—Scott's _mother's_ car—and the worried question from inside.

"_Scott, are you sure?"_

"_I _told_ you, Mom, if Derek can't help, I'll just go home and sleep it off. You need to get to work."_

"_All right, honey. Call me if you need anything."_

"_I will."_

With the way the light breeze was blowing, he caught Scott's scent a moment after the car door opened and went completely rigid. From Erica's lack of reaction, he already had an idea as to what was going on. Only… it wasn't _possible._

The car pulled away.

"Erica. Go out the back. Run. Tell the rest of the pack—_no one_ comes here until I say it's safe."

"What? Why?"

Derek kept his eyes fixed on the door, hearing and smell monitoring every slow step Scott took towards the ruined house.

"Betas tend not to live through what Scott has," he decided on. "I'll survive. You probably won't. Now _run._"

Erica ran.

Derek forced himself to remain still as Scott opened the front door, despite the sudden increase in the pheromones that _could not_ be coming from a male or a Beta yet were somehow being produced by one who was both.

"Derek," Scott's voice was low, gravelly—strained.

The world dissolved into blinding heat.


	2. Chapter 1

_This is going to be the quickest chapter update, as the entire thing was already written out. The next chapter is merely planned, not written, so expect it to take a while._

_Chapter 1_

When Scott woke up, he was in a vaguely familiar room that he'd never actually entered before, on an old, burn-scarred bed that smelled strongly of Derek. He ached, but the dizzy fever was gone.

It took a few more seconds for him to pry his own eyes open, seconds during which Derek's soft growling registered along with the steady pad of a pacing stride.

Scott managed the eye-opening thing for about half a second before he was rolling onto his side with a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine, trying to hide from the light.

"Scott?" Derek. Voice oddly soft despite the urgency.

A warm hand tugging at his shoulder, urging him him onto his back, "Scott. Tell me what's wrong."

"Hurts," Scott managed after a couple seconds, "Head," he added for the sake of clarity.

Half a second later, there was something fluffy and soft over his face, carefully not restricting his breathing, and Scott slowly relaxed as the pang of pain radiating back from his eyes eased a bit.

"I don't have any painkillers that'll work on us," Derek stated, "You're going to have to wait it out."

Scott grunted acknowledgement.

"Go back to sleep. We'll talk later."

_xxxx_

Derek was back to pacing as soon as Scott's heartbeat slowed with sleep. Later—later was good. After he had an idea what had happened—no.

Derek knew damn well what had happened, despite a distinct lack of memory. Coming back to himself mostly naked with a semiconscious Scott pinned beneath him would have been telling enough, even without the torn clothes and blood and almost _physical_ inability to move more than twelve feet from Scott's side.

He knew _what_ had happened. Not _how_ or _why_. He also knew that, in a few more days, this compulsive _need_ to keep Scott near him would fade. The irrationally overwhelming urge to shelter, to _protect_ would dim to something more reasonable. Something that wouldn't have him ripping apart every mammal to walk within twenty yards.

The stray had to have been desperate to come all the way out here looking for food—more desperate to actually go after the dead hare that had werewolf-scent all over it.

Ordinarily, Derek would have scoffed but felt sorry enough for the starving mutt that he would have allowed it the meal. Maybe even taken it to the shelter after nightfall. As it was, he smelled _male_ and _canid _and lost it. Completely.

Next thing he knew there was a very dead dog in his backyard (such as it was) and he himself had been covered in the dog's blood and had fur and flesh between his teeth.

Yeah. He knew _what_ had happened, no matter how impossible. But—_Scott?_

_xxxx_

Stiles cornered Isaac—the most approachable of Derek's Betas—in the boys' locker room. "Scott, Isaac. What do you know?"

Isaac stared for a few seconds, caught off-guard. "What?"

"His mom called him in sick today. His phone is off. As far as I know, werewolves don't _get_ sick. If he _did_ come down with something, he'd go to Derek."

Isaac hesitated only a moment more before nodding once. "I'm not sure what's going on. Erica told us Derek said to stay away from his place until he gives an all-clear. Something about Scott and Betas not tending to survive whatever he's got. I don't know if humans are… susceptible, so you should call before you do anything else."

Stiles tapped his fingers against his thigh for a moment before nodding. "Thanks."

He was pulling his phone even as he turned away, scrolling down through his contacts to the pseudonym he used for Derek. The phone didn't even get through one full ring before it was answered.

"Derek, what the hell is going on? Is Scott okay?"

"_Stiles,"_ came Derek's curt reply. No—not curt, short. Strained.

"Is Scott all right?" Stiles tried to control the dread rising in his chest.

"_He—should be. A few days."_

"What about you?"

A long silence.

"I'm coming over."

"_No!"_ Urgency laced the order, _"You can't. I'm—I'm out of control right now. If you come here, I _will_ kill you."_

"You've said that before," Stiles pointed out.

"_I mean it, Stiles. I smell something alive within twenty yards, I'll kill. I've already gone through a dog and a deer, and I don't _remember_ killing either of them. I smelled them—the next thing I knew, I was covered in blood and had fur in my teeth."_

"Oh," Stiles processed that. "Scott's safe, though?"

"_Scott is _why_ I'm out of control,"_ Derek admitted tightly, _"I'll explain later, but Scott is helpless right now. My instincts are telling me that I have to keep him safe and isolated, and they are stronger than I'm accustomed to dealing with. Scott will _not_ be happy when he wakes up if I've killed you, so please… just stay away. Even Pack can't be near right now. I'll take care of him."_

"Okay," Stiles agreed, the 'please' telling him just how serious the situation was. "All right. How long?"

"_I'll call you when it's safe. Days, maybe five or six. Less if we're lucky."_

"All right. I'll… let his mom know." Stiles ended the call and stared at his phone for a few seconds before dialing Melissa McCall.

_xxxx_

Aside from his stints going homicidal werewolf on the local wildlife, Derek was having serious trouble so much as leaving the room where Scott slept, smelling of fading pain and exhaustion. Scott seemed so _vulnerable _like that.

Derek didn't like it, and not just because of his instincts. _Scott_ and _vulnerable_ just didn't seem like they went together. He'd defied Peter when he was the Alpha again and again, he stood up to Derek, and he was the alpha of his own little non-werewolf pack. Scott was an Alpha in everything but body. Seeing him weakened… it was frightening.

Minutes slipped by like cold molasses, morning and day drawing into evening before Scott stirred again, the scent of pain finally gone.

Derek had long since settled himself against the windowsill, eying the forest with far more suspicion than even he usually showed, only to have his attention yanked to his bed when Scott's heartbeat and breathing picked up.

He didn't register moving, but he was beside the bed, one hand reaching for Scott's shoulder—and then flat on his back on the floor, Scott's eyes flaring red above him.

Derek stared as Scott's eyes faded back to brown, the look on the younger wolf's face one of pure confusion.

Then, of course, Derek had to make things worse by blurting out the only thing that had really registered about the past few seconds. "You're an Alpha."

Scott recoiled in obvious shock and confusion, "What do you mean, _I'm an Alpha?_"

Derek was on his feet and pacing again before he could stop himself, "I don't know! Your eyes were _red,_ Scott. Only Alphas have red eyes."

"Yeah, well, I haven't killed anyone—much less _you_ and you're the only living Alpha I know!"

"Betas don't just spontaneously turn into Alphas, Scott!" Derek half-snarled, not angry but definitely confused, "Not unless…" he stopped. There were stories; legends of bitten Betas that _had_ spontaneously turned into Alphas. Never more than once a century, and the only one his parents had spoken of had been over three hundred years before, but it _was_ supposedly possible.

"Unless?" Scott was watching him intently, eyes flecked with Alpha-red.

"Unless you're a True Alpha," Derek stated, suddenly awed, "There hasn't been one in almost four hundred years. I'd always thought they were just legends."

Scott slowly sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fading back to full brown. "What, exactly, is a 'True Alpha'?"

"All I know are three hundred fifty year old _stories_, Scott," Derek warned, but went on to elaborate anyway. "You know how born werewolves are sometimes born Alpha? That's genetics and chance. Two Alphas sometimes have an Alpha child; it just works that way—they're born with the wolf, the instincts."

Scott nodded.

"Bitten werewolves—they don't have that. They're born human. They don't have the instincts from the moment they're conceived. _Pack_ has to be learned, bittens simply don't have the built-in knowledge; sometimes they never figure out how to integrate with a Pack, especially if they don't have anyone guiding them. And bitten werewolves are _always_ Betas. A human-turned-Alpha would completely lose their mind. Alpha instincts are stronger, more aggressive."

Scott shifted his weight, but gave a faint 'go on' gesture.

"But sometimes... very rarely… a bitten Beta won't act like a Beta. Won't submit, won't obey the Alpha that bit them. Usually it's brief, and the Beta gives in. Sometimes they fight, and the Beta dies. Every once in a while, though… the Beta has Alpha instincts to begin with. It's not defiance, it's a simple fact that they don't _need_ an Alpha. You were always like that. You were a Beta in body, but you _had_ a Pack—small, human, but _your Pack._ You were always their alpha, and a good one. You look out for them, protect them, do whatever it takes to see them safe."

Scott's head twitched to the side, a silent 'your point being?'

"Sometimes, just sometimes… bitten Betas are like that. And when they are, sometimes they can just… push past being Betas. Become Alphas by force of will alone. They're called True Alphas… I always thought it was just stories. But… here you are."

"What does that _mean_, though?" Scott demanded.

"Hey, the last one I heard of was over three hundred years ago. A lot of what I've heard has probably… _grown_ along the way."

Scott rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but it's still better than nothing."

"Fair enough," Derek settled against the windowsill, still watching Scott, "True Alphas are supposed to be the ultimate Alphas. You know how Alphas can force pack Betas or Betas they bite to do things? True Alphas aren't supposed to need to be connected to them to control them. And you can supposedly force allied Alphas to obey you, too. That would probably mean me."

Scott scowled, "I don't _want_ to control you."

Derek shrugged, "I spent most of my life being a Beta," he pointed out, "All of my childhood being part of a larger pack. It's not like I'm not used to it."

"That's not the point, Derek," Scott scowled, eyes flaring red again.

Derek found himself averting his eyes, a wolf's gesture of submission.

Scott caught on. "Damn it," he flopped back against the bed, eyes brown and anger draining. "I don't _want_ this."

Derek sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, "You're supposed to be stronger than other Alphas, too," he added, "More resilient. Able to heal better."

Scott huffed but didn't otherwise reply.

"Relax," Derek moved over to sit next to Scott, "You're also supposed to have less control issues than normal Alphas, because your instincts theoretically don't have to change. You already _had_ Alpha instincts, just not the body."

Scott turned his head to look at the older werewolf, then nodded slightly. "And?"

Derek paused, "I don't know anything else about this," he said slowly, wondering what Scott was prompting for.

"I remember walking up to your front door and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in pain in _your_ bed and you're acting like the world's most paranoid guard dog crossed with my mother. You smell like blood, by the way. Deer and… dog?"

"Right," Derek stalled, "I don't… remember, exactly, but…"

Scott sat up turning to face Derek fully, "What _happened,_ Derek? I got sick. Werewolves don't get _sick._ So, it was not an illness. Or at least not a normal one."

"You were in heat." If he could snatch back the blurted sentence and rephrase, he would.

"_What?_"

"You went into heat. I don't know _how,_ all right? It's not supposed to be possible for a male."

Scott gestured at himself, "I work for a vet, remember?"

"It's not the same as it is for dogs—or even normal wolves. Or cats," Derek added as an afterthought. "Female Alphas sometimes go into heat—but it can be triggered by different things. There are a few requirements for it to be possible, then an appropriate trigger for anything to happen."

"Go on," Scott said, voice flat.

"Betas can't go into heat, but if there's a compatible male Alpha within a certain distance—it varies—for a long enough time, it's possible that something will trigger a female Alpha to go into heat. It's not a fertility thing. Usually it's a make-the-pair-stronger thing. Sometimes it's a protect-the-pack thing. I think… despite the fact that you really shouldn't have been able to go into heat _at all_… it was a bit of both. You protect us, Scott. You put everything you have into protecting your pack and mine, even though you claim not to be part of mine. You need someone to protect _you._ I've been trying, but… I can't always protect you. I can't always _find_ you… and you're _family._"

"So, what happened?"

Derek stared at him.

"Look, I get that I somehow went into heat. I came _here,_ looking for _you._ So. What happened?"

"I… don't remember," Derek looked away, "but I can guess. If a compatible male Alpha is within about twenty yards of an in-heat female, he'll go into rut. It's a sensory-overload that triggers an instinctive sex response. Usually neither of the involved parties will remember an initial coupling. It's… it's like a bitten's first full moon. Control is usually pretty much out the window."

"So, what? We had sex?"

"I doubt it was entirely mutual," Derek focused his gaze firmly on his shoes, "Females… that's one thing, Scott. Heat drives them into a state of lust as soon as a compatible male is within immediate scent-range. When you walked in that door—you smelled like _heat_ but not like _lust_. Granted, the heat wouldn't have _stopped_ without sex and eventually would have killed you—but I woke up and you…" Derek shuddered, a full-body tremor. "We were both mostly naked, and you were bloody. Not _bleeding,_ you healed before I woke, but… I'm pretty sure I raped you. The fever weakened you—you were partially conscious when I brought you up the stairs, but you couldn't support your own _head._ I can't…"

Scott shrugged, "I can't remember it, either," he pointed out, almost casual. "But it doesn't really matter."

Derek froze, eyes flickering towards Scott with an echo of horrified disbelief. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get _what?_"

"Scott. Heat ends with the two Alphas being _mated._ It's not like… anything human. It's not like what you had with Allison. It's not like _anything_ else. It's got to do with scent markers and a few supernatural bonding elements—but it's beyond _Pack_. You won't _ever_ be sexually attracted to anyone but your mate. It just _won't happen._ I'm going to be driven to protect you—seeing as how I was the one in rut—from anything. Everything. I'd kill _Pack_ for you."

Scott gritted his teeth, trying to keep calm despite the building frustration and anger fueled by lingering confusion. He knew Pack meant more to Derek than just about everything else. "What does it mean on my side?"

"You'll look out for me, more than the others, but it's not as overwhelming. You'll be more rational about it."

Scott nodded tightly.

"I can't—Scott,_ I_ _hurt you._"

And finally, _finally_ it seemed to click. Scott met Derek's gaze squarely, "Derek. You said that I would have died if the heat had gone unchecked."

Derek nodded, slight confusion entering his body language.

"Would you hurt me to help me heal?"

"… Yes," he admitted.

"Why is this different?"

All right, he could see what Scott was getting at. But Scott was too forgiving. "No, Scott. Not like—there's hurt and _hurt._ I _hurt_ you."

Scott huffed, "We're mated, you said?"

Derek nodded.

"We weren't, not _before._"

Another short nod.

"And you don't remember what happened."

"No," Derek confirmed.

"Then _calm down._ I don't remember either. If you hurt me, you still saved my life. And I don't hurt _now._"

That much was true—there was no pain-tang on the air.

Scott nodded as Derek's tension eased somewhat. "So, I'm in some kind of werewolf relationship that is apparently slightly more dedicated than marriage…"

Derek nodded.

"How does that even work? I've never been into guys. Certainly not you—no offense."

Derek shrugged, "I've never thought about you that way, either. That doesn't mean I never _will._ Actually, now it means I definitely will, although _when_ is another question entirely. Just because you aren't going to be attracted to anyone else, doesn't mean you'll suddenly start being attracted to me."

Scott sighed, "Anything else I need to know, aside from the, you know, spontaneous mate-thing and the fact that I'm suddenly some kind of super-Alpha?"

Derek nodded reluctantly, "You know how I said I'll be driven to protect you? For a few days—it's going to be completely out-of-control. It'll settle, but I killed the dog and deer without realizing it until afterward—although I think the deer was more a 'provide' thing than 'protect' thing, as I kind of really want to bring it to you and I only killed it. The dog… that was more… ripped apart."

Scott hesitated. "You've been… deferential," he stated slowly.

Derek nodded, "You're… a True Alpha."

"So, I could stop you even if you lost it, right?"

"Even if you weren't… if you got between me and whatever I was after, I'd probably snap out of it. Or at least stop. I _can't_ try to kill you. You're my _mate._"

Scott sighed, "Look, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I don't really want to think about this any more. Are we really going to have venison for dinner, or should I just go back to sleep?"

"There's a fire-pit out back. If you don't mind the venison idea, I can cook some for us—actually, you just need to eat. You'll still be weakened for a while."

Scott shrugged tiredly, "I'm hungry, and while I've never _had_ deer, it's not exactly an unheard-of meat in this area. I could eat."

Derek stood and moved towards the door, hesitating until Scott caught up with him.

"You realize we don't exactly have a knife, right?"

Derek waved claws at Scott, "We've got a stream not far away to clean up in."

Scott rolled his eyes and followed Derek out to the very conspicuous dead buck in the front yard, which Derek matter-of-factly ripped a leg off of before clawing a haunch free as well. A few swift movements had the skin stripped away and Scott was mildly impressed. The wolf in him couldn't get disgusted at the sight and smell of the obvious prey-animal, though he had definitely been disgusted at human bodies and the dog at the edge of the woods wasn't a terribly pleasant sight.

Derek led the way into the back, where he promptly started a fire in a old, well-used firepit with a very convenient grill-rack that was put to immediate use. He then wandered towards the unseen-but-heard stream, pausing to look back at Scott—who sighed and followed after. This whole 'irrationally protective' thing was going to be a pain until it toned down.

_xxxx_

They ate in silence, oddly companionable considering the circumstances, then Derek herded Scott back to bed.

Scott went along with it, partly because he was tired and partly because Derek was so obviously on edge, but he did pause as he entered Derek's old room. "Hey, where's my phone?"

Derek blinked, paused, and went to fish it out of his own jacket pocket. He tossed it to Scott, who immediately turned it on.

Texts from Stiles—ending with one were Stiles mentioned that he knew Derek was looking out for him and when he woke up could he PLEASE call?—and one missed from his mother asking the same thing. Scott sighed.

"What?"

Scott glanced up at the other Alpha, "My mom and Stiles both want me to call them."

"Are you going to?"

"Yeah," Scott selected his mom's number from the contacts list and hit 'send', "I'm basically just going to tell them not to worry—I don't really want to talk to anyone right now. Timeframe?"

"_Scott?"_ his mother's voice had him redirecting his attention.

"Mom, it's okay. I'll be fine. I just… need to rest for a while. Derek's kind-of gone all guard-wolf on me, so I'll be staying with him for a few days."

"Three days before you can go home, at this rate," Derek decided, "I'm more in control now that you've actually woken up."

"Derek says I should be okay to go home in three days. Not sure about school, though."

Derek grunted noncommittally.

"_All right, Scott. You're really all right?"_

"I will be, Mom. I'm really tired, though. I'm going to crash again after I tell Stiles I'm alive."

"_All right,"_ she said again. _"I love you, honey. Get better."_

"I will, Mom. Love you, too," Scott ended the call and stared at the screen for a moment before hitting Stiles' speed-dial.

"_Scott! Oh, god, tell me you're okay. Tell me you're going to be okay."_

"Stiles, calm down," Scott pitched his voice to somewhere between soothing and order, ignoring Derek growling softly beyond sending him an exasperated glare. "Derek's taking care of me. I'll be fine. I'll call you again next time I wake up, but right now I'm really, really tired."

"_Hold on—your mom said you're at Derek's place. As in, the one that's half burned and frequented by Argents. Are you sure that's a good place to be?"_

Behind Scott, Derek froze, his heart rate skyrocketing.

"Ah, good point. But I can't—be around people right now."

"_Great. Great. Is there anywhere else you can go? Or can you, you know, move?"_

Derek strode forward and held out his hand. Scott rolled his eyes but handed him the phone.

"Stiles, it's Derek. I'll take him somewhere safer. _Don't_ try to find us," he hung up without waiting for a reply and ripped the blanket and pillow from the bed, moving to shove them and some clothes in an old duffle lying in the corner.

Scott staggered a little as he went to help and Derek firmly ordered him to go sit on the bed.

As always, Scott didn't actually feel the need to obey, but decided to humor the other wolf and settled to watch Derek finish his hurried packing.

Derek zipped the duffle closed and slung it over his shoulder before walking back to Scott, "How tired are you?"

Scott shook his head a little, trying to clear the haze that seemed to be invading his sight, then gave up and slumped, "Very. I don't think I can walk far."

Derek growled worriedly, "I left my car at the warehouse. I'm going to carry you—there's a cave a ways out. I've never known a human to go there. Not even the Argents."

Scott considered protesting, but Derek was already picking him up and the exhaustion he felt was strangely insidious. He settled his head against Derek's shoulder instead, closing his eyes. He was asleep before they even made it to the tree-line.

_xxxx_

The next time Scott woke up, he felt a lot better, despite the fact that he was in a freaking _cave_ and Derek was crouching over him, watching him with worried eyes. From the light, it didn't seem like he'd been asleep too long, but he was oddly hungry.

"How are you feeling?" Derek's voice was low and anxious.

"Better," Scott started to sit, only for Derek to waver for a moment before moving to help. "A lot better, actually," he looked around, shrugging out of the blanket wadded around him. "How long was I out?"

"Over a day," Derek stated, strained.

Scott stared, "Wow. Um. Okay. Anyone freaking out?"

"Aside from me?" Derek asked, only half-kidding. "We don't have service out here, so I'm going to assume your mom and Stiles."

"Great," Scott shook his head, huffing. "Fine, well, any trouble with the local wildlife?"

Derek gazed at him flatly for a moment, then went to the cave entrance and held up a hare—already cleaned, skinned, and cooked—and lacking any visual indicators of a hugely violent death.

"So, less aggressive or completely not-a-threat?"

"I thought you'd be hungry," Derek admitted, "and tracking down deer didn't seem like a good idea. The rabbit was _right there._ Rabbit and threat? Do not go together."

Scott offered a grin and found himself catching the rabbit as Derek flung it at him before following it up with a water bottle from the duffle.

"Eat. It'll help you get your strength back."

Scott sniffed suspiciously, then decided the rabbit actually smelled _really_ good and bit into in curiously.

Derek snorted.

Scott favored him with a raised eyebrow as he chewed his first bite—the meat was admittedly tough, not terribly easy to bite through with how it had been cooked and human teeth.

"You have fangs; use them."

Scott rolled his eyes and swallowed, "If I get into that habit, who knows how much I'll freak my mom out during dinner?"

"So don't make it a habit."

Scott huffed and flashed his fangs, then returned his attention—fangs included—to the rabbit before practically chugging the water.

Derek chuckled, settling back against the entrance, keeping watch as Scott ate, then tossing the rabbit carcass well away from the cave. "You should go back to sleep. We can get you home in the morning."

Scott eyed him for a moment, "You're going to be camping outside my window if I don't let you in, aren't you?"

Derek shifted his weight, looking somewhere between amused and uncomfortable. "Probably."

Scott shrugged, "The bed's big enough for two."

Derek blinked at the offer, a little disbelieving. Supernatural bonding aside, he obviously hadn't expected that.

"Unless you'd rather sleep on the floor," Scott pointed out, a lopsided smile quirking his lips, "but seeing as how you haven't been sleeping the past… two and a half days, I think the bed would be better for you."

Derek snorted, but didn't comment. He wasn't surprised Scott could tell how tired he was, but he was oddly grateful that the other Alpha wasn't going to push him to sleep out here. Despite his weariness, Derek's senses were hyper-alert, constantly seeking any hint of danger. Sleep would have eluded him anyway, but the idea of even reclining for a moment was enough to have him restlessly scenting the air.

Nothing bigger than a rabbit for at least a mile.

Derek shook himself and glanced back at Scott, "Just go to sleep."

_xxxx_


	3. Chapter 2

_Okay, this? Is up much sooner than I expected, but work was cancelled due to a car going through the front of the store (no one seriously injured, thankfully, but some wood paneling and a very large window are in need of replacement) gave me all sorts of time to write. So, yeah. Here. Don't expect me to keep on with the quick updating thing. The likelihood is probably slim to none._

_Chapter 2_

The next morning, Scott was up with the dawn, to Derek's mingled relief and anxiety. The older wolf provided breakfast—more rabbit—and led the way to a nearby stream for water.

Scott filled the bottle he had emptied the day before and drank before refilling it again and passing it to Derek. "I am _so_ glad we don't have to worry about normal sickness."

"Times like this, so am I," Derek agreed, finishing off the bottle only to refill it yet again. "We're about five miles from the house. Think you can run it?"

"Yeah," Scott rolled his shoulders, "I feel pretty much back to normal."

"'Pretty much?'" Derek prompted.

"Just… a little edgy."

Derek nodded, "Understandable. You _are_ a new Alpha. You set the pace."

Scott nodded as Derek slung the duffle—complete with water bottle—over his shoulder, then took off at a light run, the older wolf keeping pace.

By the time they reached the burnt-out Hale house, Scott was feeling more energized than he had in days, but Derek was clearly getting worn down.

"Hey, mind if I call my Mom for a ride? It's probably safer than, you know, walking through town at the moment."

Derek nodded, glancing around with a paranoia that he didn't usually display. "That's a good idea. I can handle your mom—she smells like… your mom. I don't think I could handle anyone else too close for another day or so at least."

Scott nodded and Derek passed him his cell, thoughtfully turned off during their stay in the woods. Scott turned it on, checked the time—a little past six in the morning—and dialed his mom.

"_Scott?"_

"Yeah, Mom. It's me."

"_Oh, thank god, I was getting worried. How are you?"_

"A lot better. We're back at Derek's place—could you come pick us up? I'll explain what's going on on the way home."

"_Us? Is Derek coming, too?"_

"Yeah. It's… complicated, but he needs to stay with me."

"_All right, Scott. I'll be there in twenty."_

"Thanks, Mom. Love you."

"_Love you, too. Text Stiles, will you? He won't leave me alone."_

Scott rolled his eyes, but agreed and ended the call before sending Stiles a quick text saying Scott was okay and to call when he got up.

Scott ended up sitting on the front steps after helping Derek fling the dead deer out into the trees—a remarkably bloodless task—while Derek paced the length of the 'yard' over and over.

Then the older werewolf was between Scott and the oncoming car, half-crouched, fangs and claws showing, eyes blazing red and growling despite Scott's assurances that it was his _mother._

Melissa prudently stopped the car on the dirt track well away from the growling Alpha and rolled her window down. "Is this a bad time?"

"No," Scott called over. "He's just… having some issues."

Derek breathed deeply through his nose, registering scent and voice. Non-hostile. Scott's mother. _Female_ and _mate's family_ calmed him enough to let wolfish features fade and he straightened, shaking himself. "Sorry," he offered.

"Get in, you two. I need to get you back to the house and get ready for work. And I still want that explanation!"

_xxxx_

Melissa processed what she'd been told. The her-son-is-now-an-Alpha thing? That she could handle. So he'd gone up on the werewolf hierarchy line. Gotten stronger. Some kind of special Alpha that heals better and has more control? Great. A mother likes to know her son is safe.

Supernaturally mate-bonded to the other local werewolf Alpha due to a freak instance of pheromones?

She wasn't quite sure what to do with that one.

Derek was watching out the windows with a paranoia that both of the wolves in her backseat said would pass in a few more days. Okay, fine. The fact that Scott and Derek were somewhere between 'till death do us part' and 'forever' on the relationship scale…

Yeah. No. It still wasn't making sense. Scott had always been strictly straight.

"It's not…" Scott huffed as they pulled into the driveway, glancing at Derek as they waited for the garage door. "That doesn't _matter._ I mean, sure, we're not _in love_ with each other. Not yet, anyway. But…"

"But he's still the most important thing in the world," Derek stated.

Scott sighed, "Yeah." That was really the only way to put it.

Melissa pulled into the garage and turned off the car, not opening the car door until the garage finished closing. "All right. I still don't get it, but… Derek, you're staying here."

Derek blinked.

Scott hid a smile, climbing out of the car while Derek tried to make sense of the short statement.

"What?"

"You two might as well be married, right? You're staying here. Scott's _not_ moving out. Not until he's eighteen at least, and frankly it's a lot less suspicious for you to live here than for him to suddenly go live with you. We've got extra rooms, one of them right next to Scott's, but you can stay in Scott's room until this paranoia thing tones down."

Derek scrambled out of the car a second after Melissa closed the driver's door, Scott not _quite_ snickering as his mother walked past him without a backwards glance.

"Scott."

Scott tried to look innocent.

"What was that?"

"That, Derek, was my mom."

Derek shook his head as Scott dodged into the house.

_xxxx_

After Derek had prowled the entire house pretty much floor-to-ceiling and deemed it safe enough—that is, bound to make noise if someone broke in—he let Scott bundle him into bed. Then he growled a little forlornly as Scott moved across the room.

Scott looked at him, eyebrows quirking upwards. "I'm just getting my schoolbooks, Derek. I need to call Stiles and find out what I'm missing, then I'll come sit by the bed. Okay?"

The older werewolf flushed, barely able to believe he was still being so… insecure.

Scott rolled his eyes and dialed his friend, who answered in a dazed you-woke-me-up voice.

"_Hello? Do you have any idea what time it is?"_

"Seven thirty," Scott replied.

"_Holy—Scott? Yes! You're alive!"_

"Yes, yes, I am. I'm even awake. Now I have all sorts of school to catch up on. What did I miss?"

"_Oh, you don't _even_ get to pretend that there was anything normal about you missing. Werewolves don't get sick, remember?"_

"Except, apparently, when they do," Scott said flatly. "Okay, so it wasn't a normal sickness. I'll explain when Derek isn't growling at the phone. Just… text me the pages I need to go over, all right?"

"_Fine, fine. I expect you to explain, though!"_

"I will," Scott promised, "but I really need to go. Talk to you later?"

"_Yeah, okay. Call you after school."_

Scott hung up and within two minutes, Stiles' text of school assignments came through, so Scott dragged his backpack over to the bed and settled on the floor, back braced against the bedside near Derek's head, and pulled out his English book with a sigh.

Derek shifted slightly, the soft rasp of moving cloth oddly loud against the silence, "You could just sleep more."

Scott twisted to look at him, "Uh-huh, no. I've been sleeping for three days. Now I'm going to get my English caught up. _Then_ I'll think about sleeping more. You, on the other hand, have been _awake_ for three days. I'll keep an eye out and wake you if anything happens. You, go to sleep."

Apparently that, along with exhaustion, was enough to settle his paranoid instincts a bit. Derek huffed, but closed his eyes. Five minutes later, he was sound asleep.

_xxxx_

Scott's head jerked up when he heard a key in the door downstairs. He'd been focusing on his algebra so intently that he had tuned out the cars outside, but that particular key-sound—didn't sound like his mother.

Derek jerked awake as well, either at the sound from the door or Scott's sudden tensing, but one way or another, the older Alpha was out of the room before Scott could react.

Scott took off after him, shifting as he ran.

_xxxx_

Stiles shut the McCall house front door behind him and turned—just in time for a massive werewolf to land in front of him on all fours, black fur shrouding a half-animal body.

He yelled in shock and not a little fear—that was an Alpha in full-on wolfman mode. The only Alpha he'd known who'd looked like that was Peter Hale and he was pretty sure Peter had died at Derek's hand and _holy shit_ what if that was Peter somehow returned from the dead?

Then a slightly smaller, equally Alpha-form werewolf leapt over the first even as it crouched to attack, spinning on one clawed hand-paw to face the first with a truly impressive snarl.

The larger froze, clearly thrown off, and the smaller continued to glare at it with a rumbling growl even as it reached back to grab Stiles by the arm, claws carefully not scratching, and drag him forward a couple steps, even with the smaller—now standing—were.

Stiles was only slightly less terrified by the action than he had been by the appearance of the first, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell the smaller one was protecting him, which meant he should probably go along with whatever it was doing.

A furred shoulder rubbed against his firmly, the smaller werewolf's growl-tone changing before tapering off as the larger shook itself, tilted its head, and straightened up. Then looked down at itself with a wolfy expression of confused disbelief.

Moments later, the larger werewolf shifted into a barefoot Derek Hale in tattered jeans, still sporting a look of confusion.

The smaller nodded sharply and reverted into Scott.

Stiles was silent for all of twenty seconds. "What the _hell,_ you two? Since when could Derek go all wolfman and when the hell did Scott suddenly turn Alpha?"

Derek shrugged, "I've never used that form before," he stated, "but I knew most of the male Alphas from my family _could._ Scott—as far as I know, he's been an Alpha for about three days."

"Okay, okay—so this has something to do with the whole 'missing school' thing, got it. But Scott hasn't killed anyone," a pause, "Have you?"

Scott shook his head.

"Scott's a True Alpha. It hasn't happened in over three hundred years, but he didn't need to kill an Alpha to become one."

"Okay," Stiles shook his head, gesturing vaguely. "Did you _have_ to freakin' _attack_ me looking like Peter? I thought he'd come back from the dead or something!"

Derek froze.

Scott turned his head to look at the older Alpha, apparently hearing or smelling something a little beyond what Stiles could.

"Derek?"

"Shit," Derek said slowly. "With everything that happened… I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?" Stiles asked warily.

"Peter _did_ come back from the dead."

_xxxx_

After multiple explanations and some freaking out on Stiles' part, all three of them had pretty much all the facts from every side.

Derek knew Scott's 'working for Gerard' involved Gerard getting the Bite and pills swapped with Mountain Ash. Scott and Stiles knew about Peter's coming-back-from-the-dead stint, and the three were actually working together on a plan to deal with the former Alpha.

"This would be easier if we knew where he went."

"Yes, it would," Derek growled, pacing the length of the living room.

"So, what? We just… wait for him to do something?" Scott asked, "What if he starts killing people again?"

"He can't," Derek explained, "At least, not like he did before. He's physically weak. Stiles could beat him so long as he kept an eye on the claws. All he has are enhanced senses and claws—I don't think he can even get fangs. He's going to lay low, see what's been going on since he died, and try and get me to do his dirty work for him."

"So, we _do_ have to wait, but we're waiting for him to make contact."

Derek twitched his head in acknowledgement, suppressing a growl.

Mostly.

"All right," Scott stood up abruptly, "Stiles, you need to leave. I'll call you in the morning. Derek, _you_ need to calm down and get some more rest."

The resulting growl was significantly less suppressed.

Stiles took the hint even as Scott growled back, silencing the older wolf.

"All right, then. I'll just… head home. See you… some other time." He only kept from bolting with the knowledge that running made you look like prey and Derek was obviously losing control again, shutting the front door firmly behind him and trying to ignore the sounds of a werewolf scuffle behind him.

A dull click marked the front door locking and a sharp snarl was quickly echoed by a sound suspiciously like a whimper.

Stiles jogged over to his Jeep and got out the hell out of there.

_xxxx_

"We have _got_ to figure out what to do about this, Derek," Scott stated as soon as the two of them were back in his room and Derek had calmed down again.

"I know, all right? I know."

Scott huffed, "I take it you don't have any more information on the mate-bonding thing?"

Derek shook his head, "No. There was a book in the family library for the remote possibility that we ended up with a pair, but it was lost in the fire and I never read it. I wasn't _meant_ to be an Alpha, after all. Everything I know is… stories."

Scott dragged a hand through his hair, "Okay, okay. We have instincts for this kind of thing, though, right?"

Derek hesitated, frowning, then his eyes widened a little, "Shit. Scott…"

"I take it that means that you think I won't like what those instincts are telling you."

"No, really?"

"Derek."

The older Alpha huffed, averting his eyes at the reproving tone.

"Just tell me."

"I… I need to… claim you. Mark you. Make it so any other wolf can tell you're _mine._"

Scott rolled his shoulders and neck, "Yeah, that doesn't actually surprise me. It might be a little mutual. Ideas?"

Derek shifted his weight again, then squared his shoulders and looked directly at his younger mate. "Sex and biting."

Scott opened his mouth, hesitated, and tilted his head. "Mom's home."

"Great."

"Uh-huh. Neither of us is in any way prepared to deal with gay sex, Derek. We haven't even really been considering it."

"True."

"So not helping," Scott grumbled, yanking open his bedroom door and going into the hall, Derek trailing along behind to stand in the doorway as Melissa paused a few feet away from her obviously uncomfortable son.

"Scott? Is everything all right?"

Scott made an abortive gesture, glanced over his shoulder at his mate—and he was _going_ to get used to that, damn it—and sighed. "Well, this is not a conversation I _ever_ wanted to have with you, but…"

"Scott," Melissa used her best 'mom' tone, warning and prompting at the same time.

"Derek tried to kill Stiles. And that kind of thing is probably going to keep happening until we… uh, finalize this mate-bond."

Melissa stared for a moment, "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not, but we aren't exactly… prepared to deal with this on our own. At least, not entirely."

"Scott," she sighed, "Just… say whatever it is you're trying to avoid saying."

Scott took a deep breath, "Derek and I need to have sex."

Melissa stared for several seconds, then threw her hands up. "You know what? Don't move."

She turned and walked into her bedroom's adjoining bath and rummaged around for a moment before walking back to the doorway of her bedroom and throwing a small container at her son.

Scott caught it on instinct, then looked down to see a container of cocoa butter. Well, at least she hadn't been keeping lube on hand.

"I am _not_ going lube-shopping. You can deal with that on your own. And lock your door if you're going to be getting… intimate, because I do _not_ want to walk in on you two having werewolf sex, fighting naked, or whatever you're going to end up doing."

"Probably a bit of both," Derek muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"You," Scott glared over his shoulder, "Not helping."

Derek looked away, having the grace to look sheepish.

"Mom…"

"Don't thank me. And don't give that back."

Melissa promptly stepped back and closed the door in Scott's face.

Derek shook himself, "Well… she took that remarkably well."

Scott chucked the container of cocoa butter at Derek's head.

_xxxx_

Derek flipped the container over in his hands nervously, which really wasn't helping Scott's case of nerves at all.

"Have you ever… you know, _been_ with a guy before?"

Derek shook his head, "… You? Once, and without any control. I've always been straight. I know the general mechanics—a lot of my old pack was bi—but aside from the basic 'sex ed for werewolves' that we all got at fourteen…"

"Right. Well, this isn't awkward at all," Scott snorted, pacing for a moment before turning to face Derek. "Hey, toss me that."

Derek shrugged and complied and Scott dropped the container on the bedside table, suddenly determined. He stripped off his shirt and turned back to face his mate, only to find the other Alpha frozen, nostrils flaring slightly as he stared.

Scott huffed, balled his shirt up, and threw it into Derek's face, following in the fabric's shadow to get nearly on top of the other wolf.

Derek startled as he pulled the cloth from his head only to be met head-on by a firm kiss.

He pulled back after a moment to blink at the younger male, and Scott tugged pointedly at the hem of his shirt. "We are _not_ doing the clothes-shredding thing."

"All right," Derek pulled off his own shirt, hesitated. "How do you want this to work?"

Scott shrugged, "I've honestly got no idea. You know the basics better than I do, but… just, take things as they come, right?"

Derek glanced downwards for a moment, then looked back up, moving forward with intent. "Fine. Scott, no more thinking," he captured his mate's lips in a quick but heated kiss, "For now… just _feel_."

_xxxx_


	4. Chapter 3

_Shorter chapter, but it felt like a good place to stop. Anyone willing to beta for me? If nothing else, I could use someone to talk ideas with._

_Chapter 3_

Scott woke to the sound of his mother's door closing and lay still as he listened to her have breakfast and leave for work. He didn't actually feel the need to move—it was Saturday, not a game day, and Derek's arm was wrapped securely around his torso. That aside, Derek's chest actually made a remarkably comfortable pillow.

It should be awkward, waking up in naked in bed with a guy he'd always had a pretty much respect-antagonize relationship with. It wasn't. Somehow, it felt… safe.

That _had_ to be the apparently finalized mate-bond talking.

Scott considered, turned his head just enough to see the clock, and settled more firmly against Derek's side. The other Alpha needed the rest and he was pretty sure disentangling himself would wake Derek and, frankly, he'd really rather his mate woke naturally after the three-day stint without sleep.

And, okay, the whole 'mate' thing was starting to feel strangely natural.

Scott deliberately set those thoughts aside, closed his eyes, and dozed.

_xxxx_

The next time he woke all the way, it was because Derek half-sat before letting himself drop back against the mattress with an apologetic grunt.

"Hey," Scott greeted, sitting.

Derek sat up properly, the sheets pooling around their waists. "Good… morning?"

Scott glanced at the clock, "Something like that."

"I haven't slept past ten in years," Derek stared at the digital clock and it's annoyingly red '11:04' readout.

"Yeah, well, Mom left about four hours ago, but I figured you needed the sleep."

"I probably did," Derek admitted, shifting his shoulders back and stretching.

"One question, though," Scott glanced at something he'd noticed on Derek's right shoulder, then his own. "What's up with the, uh, scarring?"

Derek frowned and leaned closer, eyes flaring red briefly as he eyed the mark on Scott. A distinct crescent-shape, like a scar from the bite that had gone deep enough to blur teeth-marks into a single line. Only scars didn't usually look quite so… _bright._ "My only guess is that it's a physical manifestation of the bond we now share."

"Yeah, but what's up with the moonstone look?"

Derek shrugged, catching the glint on his own right shoulder out of the corner of his eye, and rolling the shoulder in question thoughtfully. The mark didn't pull like a scar would, didn't sting or burn like a bite that deep from an Alpha _should_ have after less than a day. "Remember about the 'supernatural bonding elements' that go along with the scent markers?"

"Yeah, okay. So, not something that you knew about, but something that isn't actually too alarming. Got it."

Derek shook his head with a fondly exasperated snort as Scott slid out from underneath the covers and made his way over to his bathroom, "I am totally claiming first shower," Scott informed over his shoulder.

"I can't believe I slept through your mom getting up."

Scott left the bathroom door cracked for the sake of conversation as he started the shower, "I'm used to it, so I didn't exactly tense up or anything. You were pretty out, but you probably would have woken up if I'd moved."

Derek tilted his head in silent acknowledgement, then realized Scott was out of line-of-sight. "True enough. I don't suppose you have any clothes that'll fit me? The only ones I brought are a little covered in animal blood."

Scott snorted, "Derek, have you _seen_ the size difference between us? Shirts, maybe, but pants?"

"Good point," Derek sighed. "Bloody jeans it is."

"Actually," a pause while the shower was presenting the only real noise, "If you don't mind wearing too-short sweatpants for a couple hours, I could throw a load in the washer."

"That… is an excellent idea."

Scott didn't reply and the sudden splat of water from the shower indicated he was rinsing his hair. Five minutes later, the younger Alpha made his way back out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and hair just dry enough to not be actively dripping. "There's a couple extra towels in the cupboard in there. I'll see if I can find a pair of sweats that'll work before I start the laundry."

Derek nodded and rolled to his feet, oddly unselfconscious about his nakedness as he made his way over to the bathroom for his own shower.

A little over two hours later, both of them were feeling ready to hazard a Pack-meet.

"Should I ask Stiles for a ride?"

Derek considered the question, "Probably," he admitted. "I'd feel better if I tested my reaction to the Pack first. They, at least, can defend themselves and we've already established Stiles under 'attack and mate gets angry'."

Scott choked back a laugh. "Okay, then. Good to know."

Derek huffed and stalked over to pull Scott's phone from its charger. "Just call."

_xxxx_

Derek went inside the warehouse at the abandoned train depot first, testing just how far he was currently willing to stray from his mate and quickly catching his Pack's attention.

Isaac was the first to comment, "You smell different."

Erica and Boyd both immediately checked the air.

"He's right," Erica agreed over Boyd's careful nod. "I mean, you still smell like _you_, but there's something new."

Isaac pinpointed it—being on the lacrosse team and often in close proximity to said team's co-captains. "You smell like Scott."

Derek rolled his eyes, about to comment but abruptly sidetracked by Scott and Stiles making their way in, Stiles keeping up a running litany on what had happened while Scott had been recovering.

He found himself moving into Scott's space without a thought, glaring at Stiles but refraining from growling due to the glare he got from Scott in return.

"Dude, Derek, we've been over this. It's _Stiles._"

Derek huffed a half-growl and stepped back, "I know. I know. I'm sorry, all right? This is going to take some getting used to."

"Hey, look on the bright side," Stiles piped in, "He didn't try to _kill_ _me_ this time."

"You're not really helping my case, here, Stiles," Derek grumbled, doing an automatic once-over of his mate with his senses.

Scott was fine. Probably in better physical condition than Derek, considering he was a lot less high-strung at the moment.

Stiles stared, apparently having guessed at the meaning of the searching look coupled with a deep breath through his nose. "Okay, Scott so totally nailed it when he said you were acting like a paranoid guard dog crossed with his mom."

Derek's glare this time was his normal reaction to Stiles talking.

Isaac waved his hand from ten feet away as Derek moved to stand at Scott's shoulder. "I get that something's different since whatever happened to Scott, but why are you looking at us like that, Derek?"

Derek closed his eyes with a low growl, shaking his head.

"Reactive," Scott informed. "Use your senses. What do _you_ think is going on here?"

Erica was the first to respond, "I… honestly don't know. You and Derek smell like each other—but you have spent the last four days in close proximity. He doesn't smell jealous."

"Possessive, maybe?" Isaac offered.

"Excessively paranoid, even for him?" Stiles tossed out.

Scott cuffed Stiles gently on the back of the head. "It's _not_ his fault."

"They're right, though," Derek cut in, "This is my _Pack._ If I can't make myself trust them with you, how do you plan on getting through a lacrosse game?"

"Derek, I can totally kick your ass," Scott reminded.

Raised eyebrows from the other three werewolves went ignored.

Derek tilted his head, actually considering the statement. "You know, that might not be a bad idea."

"Wait, what?" Stiles blinked at the Alpha.

Scott, on the other hand, caught on. "You're thinking that if I can convince your instincts that I can protect myself, you might be able to reign them in more easily?"

"Pretty much," Derek agreed. "You_ are_ an Alpha now."

Collective pause from the Pack.

"Since when?" Isaac asked.

"About four days ago," Derek kept his eyes on Scott and gestured for the others to move back. "It might be best if you all got in the train."

"All out or Beta-form?"

Derek pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, kicking his shoes after it. "All out."

Scott yanked his own tee over his head and kicked his shoes aside, "You know, we really need to find Peter, even if just to get him to teach us the 'shift back with actual clothes' thing that he usually did."

Derek snorted and _grew._

_xxxx_

Stiles was the only one watching through the train's windows who didn't stumble back as Derek turned into, well… a stereotypical werewolf, quickly followed by Scott.

The two circled each other slowly for a moment, then vanished in blurring black.

"What the hell?" Boyd demanded.

"Didn't we tell you? Most of the male Alphas from Derek's family could do that—and Scott _was_ bitten by Peter when he looked like that." Stiles managed to sound blithely unconcerned.

"How are they so _fast?_" Isaac and Erica scanned the mostly-empty warehouse, unable to keep up with blurring motion.

"Yeah, I really don't question the wolfiness," Stiles informed.

It wasn't until a minute later that quick clashes became something that could actually be seen. The smaller werewolf slammed the larger onto his back, pinning him to the ground with a demanding growl.

The larger tipped his head back, baring his throat in an obvious gesture of defeat and, when the smaller backed off, the larger rolled to his 'feet' and licked the smaller in the face.

In seconds, the smaller werewolf was Scott again, jeans distinctly tattered around the cuffs, wiping his face with his arm. "Dude, Derek, gross. Werewolf slobber."

Derek returned to his human shape looking somewhere between smug and distinctly more relaxed than he had been five minutes before. "Would you prefer if I kissed you?" he teased, lips quirking slightly.

Scott glared, "Actually, yes."

Stiles huffed and raised his voice, "Come _on,_ you two!"

Derek looked at Stiles for a long moment, smirked, and caught Scott by the wrist, tugging him forward into a very deliberately _deep_ kiss.

Boyd and Erica were shocked to genuine speechlessness.

Isaac shook his head a bit, wide-eyed, "Did _not_ see that coming."

Scott shoved Derek back a pace and took a steadying breath, "Really, Derek?"

Derek shrugged unrepentantly.

"No, I'm annoyed with you," Scott informed. "I have freaking _werewolf slobber_ in my _eyes._"

Derek went from 'unrepentantly smug' to 'kicked puppy' in point three seconds flat.

"Aaaand he doesn't care that Derek just gave him a gay porn-scene kiss with an audience," Stiles announced as he climbed off the train, the three Betas trailing after in stunned silence.

Scott blinked at his friend for a moment, then shrugged, which got Derek to settle on less of a 'kicked puppy' look and more of a 'slightly disgruntled' one.

Stiles paused, eyes drawn to a glimmer of reflected light off Scott's shoulder from the shrug. "Dude, do that again."

Scott hesitated, "What?"

"Shrug," Stiles waved his hand as though to indicate it should be obvious.

"Oh, you mean these?" Scott tilted his right shoulder forward, giving a clearer look at a shiny crescent line seemingly imbedded in his skin.

"Yes, that—what do you mean, 'these'? That doesn't look like a plural."

Derek huffed and tilted his own right shoulder down and forward, showing a similar shining crescent.

"Okay… that's not normal."

Scott snorted, "Since when is anything in the supernatural world 'normal'?"

"He's got a point," Isaac offered, the first of the Betas to get his voice back.

"Okay, whatever," Stiles windmilled his arms briefly, causing Isaac to step back out of range, "That doesn't answer the question. What _are_ those?"

Derek huffed and stepped over to gather shirts and shoes, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing Scott his tee. "It's a marking that basically announces to anyone who knows what it is that we're bonded mates."

Erica got her voice back at that, "Since when? You two don't even _like_ each other," she paused, then amended that statement. "Or you _didn't_, anyway."

"Four days ago," Scott replied, yanking on his own shirt. "Random and very rare Alpha thing. Choice apparently isn't really involved."

"Yeah," Derek finished tying his shoes, "It's based solely on pheromones and physical contact at first. Once it starts, there's no real way around it. I smelled him and went into rut—it took days before I was capable of controlling myself well enough not to kill every living thing that came close."

"Is that why you had us staying away?"

Derek nodded, glancing at Boyd.

"But… we're your Pack," Isaac titled his head, obviously confused.

"I wouldn't have recognized you," Derek stated, voice flat. "Everything—_everything_—only registered as 'threat'. I wouldn't have realized who you were until after you were dead."

"What about Scott?" Stiles prompted, more for the sake of Derek's Pack than himself. He'd gotten the explanation—mostly.

"I was mostly just unconscious," Scott admitted. "Despite the whole 'True Alpha' thing, male bodies aren't meant to go into heat—even the werewolf version. It really didn't help Derek with the control issues that I legitimately couldn't defend myself."

Erica's lips twitched, "You went into _heat?_"

Scott sent her a dirty look, but nodded.

"Literally," Derek growled, eyes flashing crimson, "He had a fever that could have killed him, werewolf or not. It's not supposed to work that way—he was unconscious for _three days_."

Scott moved over to rub his shoulder against Derek's, "Relax. I'm fine, now."

The older Alpha huffed, but some of his rediscovered tension eased. "I'm just glad it's a one-time-only thing," he admitted.

"You know what? I can actually agree with that," Stiles looked at Derek for a moment. "Huh. Are we actually starting to think things in common?"

"I sincerely hope the effect is limited," Derek deadpanned.

Scott wasn't the only one to snort at that comment, though he was the one to break the moment afterward. "So. As long as this is the whole 'reaction test' day, should we head out and see if we can walk the whole way down Main without you growling at anyone?"

Under other circumstances, that would have been funny. As it was, Derek grimaced. "I guess I should just be glad I'm not being actively hunted by the police anymore. I don't think I could handle 'armed and hostile'."

Scott nodded, "Then let's hope we don't run into any Argents."

Stiles groaned, "You know what? This could turn out _really_ badly."

He drove them anyway.

_xxxx_

It didn't. Turn out badly, that is. By the end of Scott and Derek's trek through one of the not-quite-as-busy streets in town, Derek was visibly annoyed but not homicidal. Scott figured that was about normal for Derek and Stiles met them at the corner.

His first words upon climbing into the back of the Jeep were: "I hate being noticed."

Stiles blinked at the not-greeting. "Well, I hate to break it to you, Derek, but you might want to get some plastic surgery for that or something. You're not exactly not-noticeable."

Scott muffled a snicker, clambering into the vehicle beside his mate as Derek glared.

"I wonder why that is?"

"Oh, come on, they dropped all charges and nobody in California has that long of a memory for fugitives."

Scott's snickering escaped him, "Stiles has a point, Derek. Most of the people staring at you smelled… _interested._"

Derek swatted Scott, admittedly more gently than he would have hit anyone else to point that out, "If you hadn't noticed, I wasn't the only one getting _looked_ at."

Somehow that didn't make him jealous. Probably because Scott was distinctly _not_ interested back at any of them. Well, except the one girl with the purple-and-green hair and tattoos over every visible inch of skin, but that had been more of a 'whoa, what the hell?' kind of interest. Derek was sure Scott had smelled the ink in her skin just as much as he had, acrid and dusty.

"And you still didn't get all growly?" Stiles grinned into the rearview, "Go Derek!"

Derek bared _mostly_ human teeth at Stiles, growling pointedly.

Scott snickered while Stiles grumbled about taking jokes. Somehow, this might just manage to work out.


	5. Chapter 4

_So. Work should be back up and running sometime next week. So, yeah, my writing-time is going to drop quite a bit. Don't expect updates to come frequently or regularly. I'll do my best, but no promises. Also, a bit of a filler-type chapter._

_Chapter 4_

"Are you all right?"

Melissa glanced up at her immediate superior, who was watching her in concern. Not the first one to ask that, either. "I'm… just stressing," she admitted.

The man glanced at the nearest clock, then nodded to himself, "It's slow, today; why don't you just head home early? We can handle things without you here."

Melissa considered the offer and nodded, "Thank you."

"Take care of yourself, Melissa," he shooed her towards the time-clock.

She punched out and drove home, deliberately not thinking about anything but road rules until the car was safely in the garage. A quick check of the house proved Scott and Derek weren't there, and she found herself caught between gratitude for the alone-time to think and worry for her son.

How had this even happened? Since the two weren't in the house, it was fairly safe to bet that the 'sex' idea had somehow settled the older werewolf enough that they weren't worried about him killing anyone. That was good.

On the other hand… yeah, no. She really didn't want to think about that particular aspect of her son's life. Some of the werewolf things fell under the category of 'don't want to know', along with her son's sex-life. Put them together and… yeah. She wasn't quite sure what to do.

Obviously she couldn't separate the two, which is what the overprotective mother in her wanted to do. But if half of what Derek had haltingly explained in the car was true, that would devastate not only the Hale Alpha, but also her son.

So, yeah. Not really an option. Having Derek stay with them… well, that was a definite. She wasn't entirely sure whether or not those two would need physical contact, but from the way it had been going, it was probable. Still, he was getting his own room, whether he _wanted_ it or not.

Her lips quirked a bit as the thought hit her that Scott's room was quite enough of a mess with just one werewolf living in it.

She let out a breath, settling herself at the kitchen table with a cup of excessively chocolaty milk as a comfort-drink, idly wondering whether her son could still have chocolate. She couldn't recall seeing him eat it in a while.

She forced her scattered mind to settle. She could handle this. For Scott.

_xxxx_

Twenty minutes later, Scott scampered through the front door, Derek trailing behind him with a scowl. The older Alpha closed the door behind himself and turned the deadbolt pointedly. A soft thud and Stiles' muffled complaints followed almost immediately afterwards.

Seconds later, the door unlocked and Stiles dodged the halfhearted swing at his head as he darted inside. "Scott, Derek's being mean to me!"

Scott snorted, "It's not like you weren't asking for it. And since when did you have a key?"

"Your mom gave it to me while you were sleeping in a cave. And how was I asking for it? I didn't do anything."

"You spent the entire time you were following us telling dog jokes and playing bad wolf songs," Derek growled.

Stiles brightened, "So you guys _could_ hear me!"

Melissa sipped at her second glass of liquid chocolate, listening to the goings-on in the room on the other side of the wall with a hint of amusement.

"Stiles, we can hear your heart beating through two walls and thirty feet," Scott pointed out, "Thinking of which, you're home early, Mom."

Melissa huffed into her drink. She should have known they'd catch her listening. "I was told to go home and 'take care of myself'," she informed, deciding against getting up.

Seconds later, all three boys were crowding the wide doorway to the kitchen, Scott flanked by Derek and Stiles.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked anxiously, nostrils flaring as he checked her scent.

Melissa couldn't quite hide the rolled eyes and smile. "I was just… distracted, today. They're having a slow day, so my boss sent me home."

"Are you sure?" Scott eyed her in a way that said he didn't quite believe the implication of health.

Derek cleared up _why_ with a distinct lack of tact and a tone of concern. "You smell stressed."

Stiles whacked the werewolf's shoulder, "Dude!"

Derek twisted to glare, "What?"

"You don't _say_ things like that!"

"What? Why?" Derek demanded with honest confusion.

Melissa abruptly felt much more at ease with the whole situation. Derek was defensive and socially inept by normal human standards… but he had a good heart.

Stiles gaped at Derek for several seconds, clearly at a complete loss as to how to explain a basic concept of human interactions, then turned to Scott. "You deal with him. He's your problem."

"Stiles!"

Melissa couldn't help it. She started to laugh.

_xxxx_

It started out as an attempt to see if there were noticeable differences in their senses in full-on Alpha form. Somehow it degenerated into a wrestling match with fangs and claws allowed.

Seconds after they had managed to knock over the desk by rolling into it, Scott's bedroom door slammed open.

Two Alpha werewolves froze, the larger's teeth tugging at the smaller's ear while the smaller had fangs firmly hanging onto his opponent's forearm, two sets of red eyes blinking at the human woman framed in the doorway.

Melissa McCall stared at the sight before her and shook her head, "Great. They're giant puppies."

The two immediately released each other, looking as embarrassed as two wolfman-style werewolves could.

A finger pointed accusingly at the desk, "That had better be picked up by the time I get back," Melissa informed before turning around and heading down the hall.

A couple seconds passed as the two werewolves shared a glance and returned to human form, setting about cleaning up the mess. Derek spent a moment straightening the bent metal desk-leg and Scott gathered his schoolbooks into a pile before they righted the desk and started tracking down scattered pens and pencils.

"Your mother is strangely intimidating," Derek observed, picking up the pen-cup and dropping several writing utensils inside it.

Scott smirked, "You should see her with a baseball bat."

Derek cringed, "I really don't want to."

The moment of laughter was shattered by the sharp ring of Derek's phone and the Hale Alpha went to answer. "Isaac?"

"_Hey, there's a creepy guy here. Smells weird and claims he's your uncle?"_

Scott stiffened and Derek growled lowly. "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him leave. We're on our way."

_xxxx_

Derek and Scott arrived outside the abandoned train station and stopped far enough away that even werewolf hearing wouldn't detect them if they kept their voices down. "Stay out of sight until I signal you, Scott," Derek ordered quietly.

Scott thought about protesting, but this _was_ Peter. "I'll go around," he offered, matching Derek's low tone.

Derek nodded once and Scott slipped around the edge of the warehouse. Derek waited a few moments to give him time, then walked inside.

Isaac stood off to the side, eying Peter warily through gold-glowing eyes. He relaxed a little when Derek came into view, nodding to his Alpha.

"Well, now," Peter gave that infuriating little smile, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "You seem to have found all sorts of trouble since you killed me. Hunters _and_ a Kanima? What _have_ you been doing?"

Isaac startled a bit at the 'killed' comment, but kept quiet at a quick glance from Derek.

"The Hunters are here because you killed Kate. Gerard just wouldn't take 'he's dead' for an answer."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Peter stated agreeably, smirking slightly as Derek stalked closer.

Suddenly, his smirk faded into surprise, then amusement. "Well, now. You smell like you've been spending _plenty_ of time with my little Scott—"

He never got to finish the sentence. Before Peter could do more than widen his eyes, he was slammed onto his back, a crushing grip around his throat and furious crimson eyes glaring down at him. Derek's wordless snarl showed fangs far too sharp to belong to any natural creature.

Off to the side, Isaac winced.

Peter choked, trying and failing to form words to diffuse some of his nephew's anger, realizing just how badly he'd miscalculated that statement. The surety that he was going to die again settled over him as darkness edged at his vision.

Derek snarled again, loosening his grip for just long enough to let Peter suck in a desperate breath before his fingers tightened again. "Scott is _mine,_" he snapped bared fangs. "If you touch him, I'll rip you apart and burn you to ashes."

Peter didn't doubt it, his jerky nod signifying understanding.

Derek backed off, clearly fighting to do so, and Peter lay gasping on the concrete. The older Hale decided against mentioning anything even remotely _related_ to Scott until he knew what was going on, and even then only with extreme caution. He'd been so _sure_ the bitten Beta wouldn't give up his weak little pack of humans, so _sure_ that Scott was the Omega that careful questioning around town made him seem. However, if that were true, Derek's reaction would have been anger—but not the overwhelming rage he'd just shown.

Even for a Packmate, that kind of rage was surprising, coming from Derek.

"And Peter?" Derek's fangs and claws receded, but his eyes still blazed red. "If you so much as _look_ at any of Scott's Pack… I really don't think I'll be the worst thing you need to worry about."

Peter raised his head a little, staring at his nephew in disbelief. Scott _wasn't_ part of Derek's Pack, if that meant what it sounded like.

"Isn't that right, Scott?"

An affirming growl came from the shadows to Peter's left and he scrambled into a wavering crouch, having to brace one hand on the ground to keep himself upright against the pain from cracked ribs.

Twin points of crimson light glared from the shadows, an otherwise human Scott moving into view.

"Well. I didn't see that coming," Peter rasped.

_xxxx_

Scott and Derek walked back over to Peter and Derek hauled the sitting former Alpha to his feet, "You're coming with us. Isaac?"

Isaac moved closer and Scott offered him a reassuring smile, "We're going to see Deaton. You want to come?"

The younger were nodded a little uncertainly, "Sure?"

Derek led the group back out to his car and rather unceremoniously shoved his uncle into the backseat.

Isaac hesitated, visibly uncomfortable with the idea of sitting next to Peter. Scott gently pushed him towards the front, moving to sit next to the one who'd bit him, huffing at Derek's unhappy growl.

Derek quieted, aware despite his paranoia that Scott could handle the severely weakened werewolf. Still, he was silently pleased to see Peter scoot as far away from Scott as was possible, casting a wary glance at Derek himself.

The trip passed without conversation and Peter scrambled out of the car as soon as they were parked in the veterinarian's small lot, keeping several feet away from Scott.

Deaton met them at the door, ushering the group of wolves inside.

_xxxx_

"I can't say I'm surprised that Scott is a True Alpha," Deaton admitted, "but I wasn't aware of anything dire enough to force him to reach for that power happening."

Scott and Derek exchanged glances while Isaac tilted his head. Peter lounged against the wall, pretending he was uninterested despite the fact that the other three wolves could literally smell his fascination.

"Nothing did," Scott said slowly. "I just woke up four mornings ago and…" he shrugged.

Deaton frowned. "That shouldn't be possible. Of every instance of True Alphas I've ever heard of, something made them _reach_ for the power. It shouldn't manifest on its own."

Scott shrugged uneasily, "It _did._ I don't know why. And that wasn't everything."

Derek cast a glare at Peter as the man couldn't help but visibly perk up, but didn't cut Scott off. Peter would find out eventually; he was insufferable like that.

"When I woke up that morning, I didn't know I'd turned Alpha," Scott explained at Deaton's questioning look. "All I knew was that I felt really… off. I had a fever. Mom took me to Derek and I blacked out as soon as I got in his house."

Derek took up the retelling at Scott's prompting glance, "He was in heat, but it was affecting him in ways I'd never heard of. I went into rut almost instantly—next thing I knew, he was half-conscious and bloody and I was so freaked out and overprotective that I dismembered a stray dog that came by without even realizing it until afterward."

Deaton frowned pensively while Peter couldn't contain himself.

"That's impossible," he stated.

Scott glanced at Derek and tilted his head questioningly. Derek shrugged back and tugged the neck of his shirt aside to show the shining crescent in his skin and Scott followed suit. Scott trusted Deaton and Deaton had helped Scott enough that Derek was inclined to trust his mate's decision. And there was one distinct advantage to Peter knowing. Every born werewolf knew not to screw with a mated pair.

Deaton was the first to get his voice back. "Well. I always knew Scott was special, but I never expected something like this."

Scott offered a wry smile, "Yeah, neither did we. Any theories?"

"Only that it must have had something to do with whatever caused you to become an Alpha without even the usual triggers for True Alphas. However, without knowing what _did_ trigger your evolution, there's no way to tell for certain. You may well simply have to accept that we may never know the answers in this case."

Scott sighed, but shrugged. The response hadn't been entirely unexpected.

Isaac raised his hand, apparently deciding whatever he'd been smelling confused about was worth mentioning. Derek raised an eyebrow in the Beta's direction.

"I just don't get why we're here," Isaac indicated himself and Peter.

"Because we want to keep an eye on him," Derek replied flatly, "and you need somewhere to stay."

"I thought…" Isaac hesitated.

"Just because you had to stay at the station warehouse while I was watching over Scott doesn't mean you're staying there now. Erica and Boyd both live with their parents, but I'm not leaving you on your own, Isaac. You're Pack."

Scott smiled, unnoticed as Isaac stared at his Alpha, confusion melting into gratitude. "We've got the space," he offered, knowing what Derek was hoping for and that Derek already intended to help with bills. "Mom shouldn't mind, so long as we go somewhere else on full moons. She has enough stress dealing with one temperamental werewolf; three would be asking a bit much."

Peter straightened away from the wall, "Well, now that you seem to have everything settled…"

Derek shoved him back with a growl, "You're not going anywhere until you answer a few _questions._"

_xxxx_

Unfortunately, Peter's information regarding their current situation—while fairly accurate, according to Deaton—was nothing they didn't already know. They turned him loose on the evening with the admonition he was currently essentially a Pack omega, lowest on the totem pole. If he caused trouble, he was going to be a capitalized Omega, on his own entirely, and run out of Beacon Hills.

He promised to behave.

Scott tipped his head back against the wall he'd come to lean against, staring up at the waxing moon. He… _itched._ Not in a physical sense, but a buzzing restlessness, a desire to do _something_. He wasn't quite sure what.

A step away from the wall turned into restless pacing as Derek talked to Scott's mother on the phone, asking if it was all right for Isaac to stay. He heard her on the other side of the line, agreeing, and Derek's assurances she wouldn't need to worry about adding to the bills, that he had that covered.

"Scott?" Isaac's wary question barely drew a glance from the pacing Alpha. "Are you okay?"

Derek stopped talking mid-sentence, attention thoroughly diverted from Melissa's voice to Scott.

Scott waved off the concern, "Just… don't want to stand still."

Isaac made a noncommittal sound, but Derek seemed to understand, offering a quick apology to Scott's mother before hanging up and moving closer to his mate. "We can't go running," he sounded a little tense himself. "Not with the Hunters the way they have been."

Scott wrinkled his nose, but nodded understanding.

Isaac glanced from one Alpha to the other, "Um, what?"

Derek explained, "New Alpha's tend to get… twitchy. It's hard to deal with the increase in strength and ability without some kind of physical outlet. Usually running."

"What about the station?" Isaac asked.

Scott tilted his head and Derek considered. "We could spar," he agreed. "It's not usually an option for new Alphas, but I don't see why it wouldn't help."

Scott visibly perked up, as did Isaac. "Can I watch?"

_xxxx_


	6. Chapter 5

_Okay, so I'm trying to write as much as I can before my time-constraints are re-imparted. Therefore: Chapter five. Also, rabbit is awesome. I love rabbit. (If most people can eat the defenseless little chickens, I can eat the defenseless little rabbits.)_

_Chapter 5_

Isaac watched the two red-eyed, mostly human-shaped werewolves' spar degenerate into an Alpha-form wrestling match within ten minutes. He wasn't sure whether or not to laugh as the two usually terrifying creatures tumbled around like overgrown puppies, chasing each other and tackling and rolling across the concrete.

When Derek ended up being shoved off the top of a train only to land in an ungraceful heap before scrambling to all-fours and glaring up at Scott's muzzle peering over the edge he'd fallen from, looking thoroughly offended, Isaac couldn't quite hold back the snicker.

Next thing he knew, he had an Alpha slamming into him, tumbling him to the ground and chewing on his hair, using a combination of bodyweight and claws imbedded in concrete to keep the Beta from escaping.

Isaac wasn't quite sure which one had him pinned until the other moved into view, a rumbling laugh rising from his chest.

Isaac shoved ineffectively at the black-furred form above him, "Scott!" he complained, "Let me up!"

Scott let go of Isaac's hair (now thoroughly covered in werewolf slobber) and looked down at the indignant glare being sent at him. "Make me." His voice sounded strange, deep and growling with his muzzle giving the words an odd accent, but the tone was nothing short of playful.

Isaac gave a second, equally ineffective shove and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Derek apparently either took pity on his Packmate or decided to use Scott's complete inattention to his advantage (Isaac was betting on the latter), but either way, Scott ended up tumbled sideways by the larger wolf.

From there, in devolved into a three-way wrestling match, the Alphas careful not to actually hurt the Beta, and by the time the group wound down enough to drop back to human form, all three were laughing.

Isaac's laughter faded to a small smile as he realized had never before seen his Alpha _happy_. No matter what had _caused_ this… it was a good thing that it had happened.

_xxxx_

"And where have you three been?" Melissa tapped a foot, arms folded as she confronted the wolves slinking in through her front door.

"Scott needed to work off some energy," Isaac offered while the Alphas were still blinking.

"And he couldn't pick up his phone?" her attention turned to rest solely on her son.

Scott reached for his pocket, frowning when he discovered his phone was silenced. Ordinarily, the screen lighting up made enough sound to catch his attention—werewolf hearing was good enough to hear the change in the electronic hum—but over the sound of their wrestling match… yeah. No surprise he hadn't noticed.

"We were sparring," Derek informed, trying to pull the scowl away from his mate despite the fact that the only threat was disappointment.

Isaac snorted. _Sparring._ Right.

Melissa raised an eyebrow at the tall teen, noticing the state of his half-matted hair. "Isaac, I presume?"

Isaac nodded, "Yeah, Ms. McCall. Nice to meet you," he offered a hand, which she accepted briefly.

Melissa gestured towards Isaac's hair, "Do I even want to know?"

Isaac raised a hand to his head, making a face when he encountered sticky-damp curls. "Scott. All Scott. He pounced on me."

Scott snickered.

"That doesn't look like blood," Which was a good thing, in Melissa's opinion. Even if they _were_ werewolves, faux-fighting shouldn't cause a whole lot of bleeding.

Derek smirked, "Werewolf slobber."

Melissa stared for a beat, then shook her head. "Dinner. Shower. Bed. Isaac, I've set up the guest room for you for tonight; we'll get you settled more permanently tomorrow."

And that, apparently, was that.

_xxxx_

Derek couldn't help but keep tabs on Scott's activities throughout the evening despite the fact that Melissa had commandeered his direct presence. Despite the rational knowledge that Scott _could_ take care of himself and that it was unlikely that anything would happen with three werewolves in the house, it made him edgy to have his mate out of sight for so long.

He suppressed a self-deprecating snort. 'So long'. Right... it had been a little over half an hour. Even if it _was_ just skirting the edges of the timeframe he'd initially given himself, he had no idea how he was going to handle Scott going to school come Monday.

Melissa pointedly snapped her fingers a few feet in front of Derek's face, drawing some of his attention back to her. "I know I don't need to grill you on intentions," she informed, "but is this… whatever it is, going to be a lasting issue?"

Derek shifted uncomfortably on his chair, "I hope not," he decided he'd best stay honest, "but I really don't know much about mate-bonds. I wasn't born Alpha, so my family didn't really think I would _need_ to know; even most Alphas don't bother learning. It's just too rare."

Melissa grimaced, but nodded. "I appreciate the honesty. So… maybe I should just get used to the idea of Scott's room being yours, too."

Derek averted his gaze, but nodded. "The more time we spend together, the easier it seems to stay calm when we're not. But I don't know how I'll handle having him further away—right now I can _hear_ where he is."

"Well. That should make school interesting."

Derek groaned, "Don't remind me."

_xxxx_

Scott couldn't settle down once he'd climbed in bed. And, okay, he'd been sleeping a _lot_ lately, but that was only to be expected after the fever he'd had, werewolf healing or not. Maybe moreso with the werewolf healing, as the energy had to come from _somewhere._

It wasn't that he wasn't sleepy, he _was._ It was an itching restlessness that had nothing to do with the actual desire to move, not the same as the tingling energy he'd had earlier. No, this was more… tired, more uneasy. He let his mind drift and found himself latching onto the sound of Derek's voice as the other male talked to his mom, the relief he felt as he realized that the conversation was coming to a close taking him by surprise.

Damn it; that was inconvenient.

Still, he didn't bother to try and play strong when Derek appeared and traded his standard clothes for sleep-pants before sliding under the covers beside him, immediately curling into the older wolf's side. The uneasy restlessness faded away.

Derek's arm settled around Scott's shoulders, pulling him closer as he settled his head against a warm chest, closing his eyes.

Rationally, he knew he was physically stronger than Derek, now. That didn't seem to matter, though, as the feeling of comfort and safety settled over him. Scott let his eyes slip closed and his breathing even out, the steady beat of Derek's heart beneath his ear lulling him to sleep.

_xxxx_

Scott was at first only vaguely aware of the shift in his mate's breathing, then a subtle tightening of the arm still wrapped around him. He burrowed closer to the source of comfortable warmth and a soft chuckle had him waking more thoroughly.

He knew he couldn't fake still being asleep, but he was _not_ getting up. He shifted his head until his ear rested directly above Derek's heart—a position that he had slipped away from sometime during the night, though he was still using his mate as a pillow—and refused to open his eyes.

Warm breath ruffled his hair, "It's past nine already."

Scott tightened the arm draped over Derek's chest, "It's Sunday."

"Isaac's making breakfast," Derek coaxed. "I smell eggs and bacon."

"Can't hear you," Scott grumbled, "Sleeping."

"You are not."

"I _would_ be if you'd be quiet."

Derek considered that. "Come on, Scott," he shook the grumbling teen gently.

"You don't want to move, either," Scott accused, tipping his head back to give a half-accusing, half-pleading glare.

Derek had to give him that one, except for one thing. "I'm hungry."

Scott groaned, but sat up. "You just want bacon."

Derek's eyebrows quirked upwards, "Hey, bacon's meat and I'm a werewolf."

"Good for you," Scott snorted, "Want me to catch you a rabbit?"

Derek feigned perking up hopefully, "Would you?"

Scott threw a pillow at him.

_xxxx_

Scott took stock of the limited meat in the freezer, "I wonder if Mom would eat rabbit if we brought it to her," he mused.

Isaac stopped chewing, turning his head to look at the other teen. "What?"

Derek took the comment at face-value, "We could ask."

Isaac's head whipped back in his Alpha's direction, "Rabbit?"

"What?" Derek tilted his head.

"Rabbit's good," Scott agreed, making his way over to the table and the food Isaac had piled onto it.

Isaac shrugged, "Can't say I've ever tried it," he admitted, returning his attention to his plate.

"You'd probably like it," Scott stated, filling a plate with eggs and snagging a few pieces of bacon. "You _are_ a werewolf."

"We actually do need more animal-based protein in our diets than humans," Derek informed. "Wolves are solely carnivores, and while humans are capable of getting all the nutrition they need from plants, we can't digest plants nearly as easily as meat."

"So, no such thing as a vegetarian werewolf?" Isaac asked.

"No such thing as a _live_ vegetarian werewolf," Derek corrected. "I heard of one who tried; he got weak enough that his immune system crashed and he died from a normal flu."

"Huh," Isaac picked up another strip of bacon and munched thoughtfully.

"I know dogs and cats can handle meats and meat-fats way better than humans can," Scott offered, "Is the same true for us?"

"Well, you don't need to worry about red meats contributing to heart disease," Derek shrugged, "We're predators. We're built to eat meat. We have enough human in us that our bodies won't outright reject things like grains and vegetables, and we do need the same trace minerals as normal humans, but we can be perfectly healthy eating only meat and an occasional vitamin and mineral supplement."

Isaac hummed thoughtfully, "And that would kill a human pretty quickly."

Derek nodded.

"Does it have any affect on our control? Whether or not we eat enough meat?"

Derek paused, "You know, I've never thought about that. I know a starving wolf is a great deal less predicable than a healthy one in the wild, so I suppose it wouldn't surprise me."

Scott considered, "We should probably tell Mom that. Maybe she'll let us bring back what we hunt."

"Like rabbit," Isaac teased.

Scott grinned back at him, "Rabbit is awesome."

_xxxx_

Stiles let himself into the McCall house and stopped, blinking at the werewolves sprawled around the living room. "Okay, when did Scott's place turn into Werewolf Central?"

Erica shrugged from her place with Boyd on the couch, "We just got here."

Scott snorted and deleted the text he'd been writing. "Derek and Isaac are living here now," Scott informed.

Derek rolled his eyes and plucked the phone from Scott's hands, "You don't need that now that he's here."

Scott shrugged, making no move to get his phone back. "We're about to talk strategy," he told Stiles. "The Hunters are a problem, especially now that Gerard's controlling the Kanima."

Stiles hesitated, then shook his head, "Not to disrupt the happy couple," he gestured to Scott leaning against Derek's chest, "but what're we going to do about Allison? She's pretty set on killing Derek."

Scott made a confused sound, half growl, half whimper. Derek had been right in that he wouldn't have any sexual attraction to her anymore, but he still saw her as important. As a sister, he supposed. But if sister and mate couldn't get along…

"We could tell her what happened that night," Isaac suggested from where he lay sprawled out in front of the coffee table. "She might calm down if she realizes that the Bite was an accident."

"Not with Gerard in town," Derek sighed, "He'd find a way to convince her we were lying."

"We need to get her to see what Gerard really is," Scott stated, firm but sad. "He wants the Bite so badly? Have Derek give it to him—I already swapped his medication out with Mountain Ash. It'll stay in his system for a few more weeks, according to Dr. Deaton."

"Why not you?" Erica questioned.

"We can't risk that," Derek said sharply. "We can't let Gerard know Scott's an Alpha."

"Not to mention we don't actually know whether or not there's something different about his bite to normal Alphas," Stiles added.

"'Normal' Alphas?"

Scott blinked at being the sudden focus of Erica and Boyd. "Did we not explain the whole 'True Alpha' thing?"

Derek thought back, "Not to the Pack as a whole."

"Huh."

"Will someone just tell us, already?" Erica demanded.

"Okay, quick rundown: Werewolves who aren't born Alpha have to kill an Alpha to become one. Bitten werewolves always start out as Betas. There is apparently some weird special type of bitten that crops up every few hundred years that can bypass that and become Alpha all on their own. Scott's one of them." Stiles rubbed his hands together, "What did I miss?"

Derek spoke into the brief silence, "True Alphas—Scott is one—have abilities a little beyond those of normal Alphas. They're stronger, faster, heal better, and have better control. Everything that I can do, he can do. And he can—in theory—force me to obey him the same way I can force you guys to back down."

Erica sat back, Boyd blinking at the information. Even Isaac was a little taken aback—he hadn't known what made True Alphas special aside from not having to kill for their power.

Stiles seemed to be in the same boat as Isaac, "Whoa. Did not know about that last bit. So, he's a super-Alpha."

"Basically."

"Yeah, and we don't want Gerard _actually_ turning werewolf," Stiles nodded. "Okay, Scott—definitely time to keep your new status under wraps. No glow-eyes for you."

Scott sighed, "What about Jackson?"

_xxxx_

Scott retreated to the backyard, frustrated and miserable. He knew they were right. There might not be a way to stop the Kanima without killing Jackson. And… he _would_ protect his mate and his Pack. If that meant killing the Kanima—and Jackson with it—he would hate it. But he couldn't place the life of one cursed teen over all the other lives that would be lost if the Kanima continued to find new masters.

But Jackson… he was Pack, somehow, for all that he didn't accept Scott as alpha. And that… that made this even worse. It felt like turning against one of his own.

Scott growled under his breath, pacing restlessly. Killing Jackson—no matter what form he was in—would be killing a member of his Pack. Not stopping him at all, though… that would likely get more of his Pack and maybe his mate killed.

There was no 'good' choice to make. Only bad and worse.

He didn't acknowledge Derek's worried gaze as the other Alpha watched from the back door, didn't respond to the initial call of his own name when his mate couldn't take standing by anymore.

Then Derek's arms were around him, pulling him firmly against a warm, broad chest, and it was then that he realized the tears dripping from his eyes. Scott's hands fisted in the soft cotton of Derek's shirt and he buried his face against Derek's neck, letting the scent and sound of his mate soothe him.

"He's Pack to you, isn't he?" Derek's voice was so soft that Scott knew even the other werewolves in the house wouldn't be able to make out the words.

Unable to find his voice, Scott nodded.

He felt Derek's arms tighten around him and Derek's mouth press against the top of his head.

"I'm sorry," it was the ghost of a whisper, filled with understanding pain.

Scott closed his eyes and took the moment to _breathe,_ hating that there was nothing more he could do.

_xxxx_

"I get that he doesn't like killing," Erica glanced towards the kitchen and the back door the Alphas had vanished through, "but why does this upset him so much?"

Isaac shrugged uncomfortably, not actually having an answer, and Boyd was as confused as Erica.

Stiles sighed, straightening away from the corner he'd been leaning against to pace. He wasn't sure he should answer, or even _how_ to answer. He knew Scott had this drive to protect everyone, and especially everyone he knew. He knew that Scott counted himself Jackson's friend, though there was no returned friendship.

He even knew that Scott had faced down a still-Beta Derek for Jackson when he'd only been a werewolf for a few months.

It clicked. Scott wasn't exactly Jackson's alpha, but he still saw the other boy as Pack.

He heard several sharp breaths and realized he'd said that out loud.

"Shit," Boyd summed up the other werewolves' thoughts quite succinctly. None of them could imagine killing one of the others.

Suddenly everything seemed that much darker.

_xxxx_


	7. Chapter 6

_So, things are catching up with me and my writing time has dropped. Fortunately for you, I already had this chapter mostly finished before that happened. I have the next one planned out, and I've discovered this great speech recognition program on my computer, so if I'm lucky I might be able to keep up with semi-frequent updates by dictating while I'm doing quieter hands-on stuff. Most of the next chapter is actively planned, so I'm hoping to be able to finish it quickly despite the lack of time._

_Chapter 6_

"We should merge Packs," Derek's comment was mostly to give Scott something other than Jackson to focus on, though the thought had passed through his mind several times since they'd ended up mates.

Scott blinked, tipping his head back to look up at the taller Alpha. "Didn't we kind-of already do that?"

"I meant officially. Since your Pack is comprised of mostly normal humans—although I'm not entirely sure Stiles is even _partly_ normal—Pack instinct won't extend from my Pack to yours without a little help."

"Huh," Scott considered, not giving the smile Derek had hoped for with his 'Stiles' comment. "Stiles is the only one who actually acknowledges it, since the whole thing with Allison's mom."

Derek frowned. That… wasn't good. Scott was driven to protect his Pack beyond anything Derek had before seen, but Pack refusing to acknowledge each other put a great deal of mental and emotional strain on werewolves. Since Scott was the only actual werewolf in his pack _and_ the alpha, the humans were unlikely to realize the damage they were causing. His desire to protect them would include putting up a strong front.

That on top of Hunters and Kanima… it was a miracle Scott was still sane.

"Scott…" he didn't know what to say, how to explain. Scott wasn't a born, he hadn't been taught these things as a child.

"It's hard, you know?" Scott murmured, pressing his forehead to Derek's chest and taking comfort in the strong arms wrapped around him. "Mom's starting to—to acknowledge me, to accept the idea of 'Pack'. That helps." Melissa had backed down at the police station on Scott's word when a gun pointed at her face hadn't stopped her. The _relief_ he'd felt in that moment hadn't just been for his mother's continued safety.

"Stiles does his best," Scott continued, "but… Lydia and Allison and Jackson…"

Derek tightened his arms, almost crushing the teen to his chest. "Scott," he murmured, "you may have to let them go. This is _hurting_ you."

"I can't," Scott whispered, raw and pained. "I just… I _can't._"

Derek closed his eyes, somehow unable to refute the truth of that. Scott _couldn't_ force himself to think of them as anything less than Pack. And it had to be tearing him up inside.

"It's… easier, somehow," Scott turned his head to press his ear above Derek's heart, letting the steady thumping drown out the sounds from inside the house, "with you here. It… doesn't hurt as much."

Derek pressed a kiss on the top of Scott's head, wishing he could somehow make this better.

"Come on," he said after another few moments of just holding his mate, offering what reassurance his presence could. "Let's get you inside, Scott."

_xxxx_

Stiles hovered anxiously as Derek guided Scott back inside, the younger Alpha clearly worn down and unhappy. Stiles couldn't help but move closer to his friend, wanting to offer support—and to his surprise, Derek didn't glare, growl, or do anything else unfriendly.

No. He _nodded_. A gesture of blatant acknowledgement and acceptance.

That seemed to be enough for the werewolves in the kitchen doorway to come and join Stiles in just being near the two Alphas, near enough that most humans would start to feel a little overwhelmed.

Scott didn't say anything, but something about him seemed to ease a bit as Stiles was crowded closer, ending up rubbing shoulders with his friend.

The wolves took that as an indication to move in, to touch Scott. A hand on a shoulder, another on an arm, a nervous grip on Scott's wrist—all three seemed to be trying to communicate something that they didn't have the words to express.

Stiles actually understood the feeling. The realization that his ever-protective friend/alpha/whatever saw Jackson as Pack and had just been told that Jackson could not be saved… yeah. He shuffled his feet a bit and pressed more firmly against Scott's shoulder, surprised when Derek adjusted his grip to allow it.

Scott slumped, leaning heavily against Derek's side, and the other werewolves made distressed sounds that matched Stiles' own worried "Scott?"

"He needs Pack right now," Derek explained quietly, herding the entire group back to the living room and settling himself and Scott on the couch, tugging a still-surprised Stiles down on Scott's other side.

Scott remained silent as he curled into Derek's side, one arm going to pull Stiles closer while the Isaac dropped down to sit at his feet.

Boyd pushed Isaac a little further to one side so he and Erica could settle against one of Scott's legs while Isaac used the other knee as a pillow.

Scott's tension eased, his breathing slowing and deepening as his eyes slipped closed.

Derek let out a breath, dropping his chin onto Scott's head, and they stayed like that for a long time.

_xxxx_

Chris Argent sat on the couch in his living room, completely alone in the house for the first time since his wife had… died. He hadn't even been given a chance to grieve, and now that he was by himself, he let himself wonder how things could have gone so horrifyingly wrong.

If Gerard hadn't come… god help him, but he couldn't help but place some of the blame on his father. If the man hadn't come, he might still have his wife. His daughter might still have her mother. It should have ended with Kate.

Kate and Peter. When he'd found out what Kate had done… yes, he could see why Peter had been so angry. He could see why the werewolf had gone so mad as to go on a vengeance streak, although it pointed to his mental instability that he'd killed a member of his own family for the power to attain that vengeance.

Chris frowned, remembering the night that his sister and her killer had both died. Derek Hale and Scott McCall, the only other two werewolves in the area at that time, had fought a losing battle to protect Chris and Allison even after Kate had been killed.

Derek did not place blame on family simply because one of them had wronged him. When he'd realized that Chris had genuinely not known about Kate's involvement in the Hale Fire, he had summarily started to ignore the Argent family as long as they posed no direct threat.

That bothered Chris more than he'd like to admit. Not the fact that Derek didn't seem to have an interest in hurting him or his family, but the fact that the Hale had bitten Victoria. He wasn't stupid—he had to have known it would only turn the Hunter family directly against him. And Chris had seen enough of the Hale Alpha to know that, despite his bravado, he would rather run than kill if the opportunity arose.

Derek wasn't some remorseless killer, and he _had_ to have known that Victoria would never let herself become a werewolf.

So why had he done it?

Chris rubbed his forehead, a visible indication of his distress that he rarely gave. The fact that Victoria had not told him where she had gone that night or what exactly had happened—and he'd been far too distracted by the Bite to think to ask directly—did not sit well with him.

He knew she would have told him if the blame could have been laid solely on the Alpha's shoulders, which meant she had put herself into the situation deliberately. She had been the one to place herself in danger, attacking either Derek Hale himself or a member of his Pack—those were the only possible reasons he could think of for the werewolf to bite her.

Chris stood abruptly, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind. Despite his suspicions, he was _furious_ with the Hale Alpha. No matter why he'd done it, Derek had still played a very large part in his wife's death, and he wasn't sure he could ever forgive that.

Still, there was one lingering thought: _What if it wasn't his fault?_

_xxxx_

"Feeling better?"

Scott glanced up at Derek and gave a lopsided half-smile, shifting to sit more under his own power. "Mostly."

Stiles mumbled something incoherent and flopped off Scott's other shoulder to tip towards his lap only to jerk awake with a yelp and tumble completely off the couch, landing on Isaac.

That started a chain reaction. Isaac had been half-sitting, half-lying, his weight spread across Scott's shin and Boyd's back. When Stiles fell on him, he jerked awake and sideways all at once, sending a still-waking Boyd toppling over onto Erica's head. Erica's waking response to the sudden suffocating weight on her face was to extend her fangs and bite. Boyd's reaction to the sudden sting in his side was to call out claws that raked across Isaac's arm and Isaac shied halfway across the room and spun around with a snarl, eyes glinting gold even as Stiles tumbled the rest of the way to the carpet.

Fortunately for everyone involved, the only injuries were inflicted to quick-healing werewolves and pride, everyone settling down as they reached full awareness.

Scott wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. That had been utterly ridiculous.

Minor injuries forgotten, all three werewolves joined Stiles in questioning Scott's wellbeing while Derek watched them with something close to a smile.

"Really, guys," Scott assured for the umpteenth time, "I'll be okay."

Stiles, recognizing that the answer wasn't going to change and was _probably_ the truth, glanced around.

Then his eyes caught the clock on the wall, "Holy crap," he yelped, "I told Dad I'd be home an hour ago! Where's my phone?"

Stiles scrambled madly for his jacket, searching for his missing cellphone, and Scott reached over to pull his own cell from Derek's pocket.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

Scott shrugged and dialed Stiles' home phone, waiting a few moments for the Sheriff to pick up. "Hey, Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles is still here. We… uh, kind of fell asleep. He's looking for his phone right now, but he'll be home soon."

"_Fell asleep?"_

"Um, yeah. I'm still getting over being sick and I guess Stiles just zonked on the couch after I fell asleep, because he woke up and started freaking out at the time."

Scott could practically _hear_ the rolled eyes. _"I'll take your word for it. Thanks for letting me know."_

"Sure thing," Scott smiled a bit when the line went dead. That was Stiles' dad, all right. Always efficient, whether or not it was actually needed, and usually sarcastic to boot.

Stiles let out a triumphant crow, snatching his phone from between the cushion and the arm of the couch, immediately starting to punch in his dad's number. Scott snagged the phone away from him and deleted the already-typed numbers before handing it back at an indignant squawk. "I already called him, Stiles. Just go home."

Stiles blinked at Scott for a moment, then took in the blatantly amused looks he was getting from all the other werewolves. "Right. Thanks, man," he was only half-sarcastic. Then, apparently feeling somewhat vengeful for being turned into the current source of amusement, he reached out and ruffled Scott's hair into an unruly puff before scampering to the door with a cheerful, "Bye, guys!"

_xxxx_

Three hours later, Scott closed his Chemistry book and dropped it onto his desk with a surprisingly loud bang.

Derek started to his feet sharply, eyes flashing red as the book he'd been reading fell from hands coming up as if to attack. He caught it before it fell more than a foot, eyes dimming back to hazel even as he gave an exasperated growl.

Scott flushed, "Sorry. Didn't mean it to be that loud."

Isaac appeared in the open doorway, blinking at the two Alphas as he glanced around the room. "I get that nothing too bad just happened," he said after a moment, "but what was that sound?"

Derek gestured towards Scott, "He dropped his textbook on the desk."

"What?" Scott sounded a little defensive. "I just caught up in Chemistry. I was expecting a satisfying 'thump', not a resounding 'bang'."

Derek rolled his eyes, but Isaac laughed.

"Anyway," Scott continued, shoving back from the desk and standing, "Mom'll be home in an hour or so. I'm going to start making dinner."

Isaac perked up, "I'll help!"

Derek made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle as he dropped his book onto the green chair he'd been sitting in before the startle, moving to follow Isaac and Scott downstairs. Five minutes later, the three of them were poking through the kitchen and pantry for ingredients, intending to have a meal ready and waiting when Scott's mom got home.

_xxxx_

Melissa sighed as she climbed out of her car, not sure whether she wanted food or sleep more. It had been a _long_ day, a restaurant kitchen-fire bringing in three burn victims and quite a few people suffering from smoke inhalation on top of the usual, everyday illnesses and injuries.

It wouldn't have been that bad—no one had died during her shift, which was always a good thing—but one of the cooks had asthma as severe as Scott's had once been and the smoke had done her no favors. The nebulizer hadn't helped as much as the doctor had hoped and she'd had to be put on oxygen for over an hour before her breathing had returned to something close to normal.

Melissa had found herself remembering a time when a younger Scott had suffered similarly, and that only from a brief instance of campfire-smoke blowing the wrong way. The memory had been followed by relief at the thought that she no longer had to fear her son would suffocate on dry land, then a sharp worry that something supernatural would snatch him away.

Knowing Scott was a werewolf had both decreased her old worries and added quite a few new ones. The creature from the police station had been terrifying; the knowledge that Scott was now part of a world she'd once thought belonged in horror stories even more so. And he was hiding something from her.

She knew that she was his mother and he was a teenage boy and some secrets were to be expected, but she had the uneasy feeling that whatever it was that he was hiding was dangerous. Throughout the day, she'd found the fact that he had Derek with him was actually _reassuring._ She knew the older werewolf wasn't going to stand by while anything threatened her son.

"Mom?" Scott's voice broke through her musing.

Melissa blinked and realized she had no idea how long she'd been standing with one hand on the still-open car door. "Oh. I must be more tired than I thought," she smiled at her son and pushed the door shut, moving around the car to make her way into the house.

Scott stepped aside to allow her past him, closing the door to the house after following her inside.

"Mm," Melissa smiled, "Something smells wonderful. Did you cook dinner?"

Scott grinned at her, though she could still see a hint of concern in his eyes, "Not by myself. Derek and Isaac did a lot of the work."

"Well. I could get used to this," she was only half teasing.

"Hey, Ms. McCall," Isaac greeted, waving an oven-mitt covered hand as she walked into the kitchen.

Melissa waved back with an easy smile, dropping into the chair that Derek pulled out from the kitchen table for her, "Thank you, boys. This is a wonderful surprise."

Derek shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "It's the least we can do, considering."

Melissa gave him a pat on the arm, smiling, "Well, thank you anyway."

Scott grinned, then leaned over with a hand exaggeratedly hiding his mouth as he stage-whispered, "Just say 'you're welcome', Derek."

Melissa chuckled, waving off the clearly uncomfortable werewolf before he could do as he was told. "Really, it's sweet of you boys. Shall we?"

In minutes, plates were filled and the four were settled to eat, Melissa smiling softly at how much this felt like _family._

_xxxx_


	8. Chapter 7

_Mwa-ha. I have spent ENTIRELY too much time playing with the Speech Recognition program built into Windows 7's Ease of Access Center. Yes, I can still be somewhat productive with my hands while doing so—but it's so DISTRACTING. At least work hasn't required a great deal of mental attention since the majority of the repairs were finished—I mean, sure, long hours, but it's not like my part of the job requires a bunch of paperwork or anything. So I can go home and not think about it._

_And play with my computer while making dinner, so long as I watch what I'm doing. ^_^_

_Also, this chapter took about half the total hours to 'write' as usual with none of the delete-and-rewrite I usually do. I should really do the pre-planning of chapters that thoroughly all the time._

_Chapter 7_

Scott shifted in his seat, fighting himself to stay calm and at least semi-still. Yet another glance at the clock showed that they only had ten more minutes of class—but it was still first period. Already he was uneasy, restless, bordering on anxious. Stiles' soft muttering behind him helped ground him a little, but what he really wanted was _Derek_.

Which begged the question: how was Derek holding up? Sure, Scott knew that a good portion of his building discomfort could be attributed to being surrounded by people who were most decidedly _not Pack,_ but Derek was—how had he put it?—'less rational' about Scott and distance, which apparently equated itself with 'potential danger'.

They had literally spent the entire last five days in each others' presence except for a little over half an hour when Scott's mother had decided to question Derek while Scott got ready for bed. Even then, they'd been within easy earshot.

When the bell finally rang, Scott bolted to his feet and strode towards the classroom door, Stiles scrambling after him. He didn't pause as he made his way towards his locker, dodging people in the rapidly-filling halls as he pulled his cell out, pressing on Derek's new speed-dial.

He was completely unsurprised that the call didn't even make it through one ring before being answered, Derek's voice tight with strain. _"Scott?"_

"Yeah," he twisted to lean shoulder-first against his locker, ignoring Stiles' put-out grumbling at having been left behind. "God, I don't know how I'm gonna do this."

"_Yeah, I know what you mean,_" Derek's voice was rueful, but at least the strain was diminishing.

Scott stayed silent, his hearing focused almost solely on the sounds from the other end of the line. Through the soft crackle of static, he could make out the familiar beat of Derek's heart, and the sound steadied him. He could tell from the slowing pace of that beat and Derek's soft sigh that his mate was doing the same.

"_Isaac's in your next class, right?"_

Scott grunted affirmation. "Stiles is in all my classes, and first's the only period without one of the others."

"_Good,"_ Derek sighed again, and Scott could hear him run fingers through his hair. _"Make sure they sit near you, all right? It'll help."_

"Okay," Scott agreed, "but what about you?"

"_I'll manage. You need to get to class—I can hear the hall getting quieter."_

Scott gave his own sigh, "I know. I do. I'll call you next break, all right?"

"_Please do. It might be the only thing that'll keep me sane."_

"Talk to you later," Scott assured, not liking how not-kidding Derek had been, but not having time to continue the conversation. He ended the call reluctantly, Stiles already tugging on his arm to drag him to their next class.

They barely made it before the bell and Scott glanced around for empty desks, gratified to see Isaac had saved the two in the corner for Scott and Stiles, his own placement providing a partial barrier against the rest of the class.

"You okay?" the taller wolf asked, concern clear in the cant of his head.

Scott shrugged slightly as he slung his backpack to the floor and sat, "Edgy." The call had eased that, a little, but considering he'd started the last period not-edgy and ended it fighting to stay calm, he wasn't sure how he'd handle _starting out_ edgy.

Then the teacher called the class to order and Scott tried to force his attention to the lesson.

_xxxx_

Derek growled to himself as he pocketed his phone, resuming pacing the length of the room he now shared with his mate. It was, after all, the part of the house that smelled the most like Scott, and that helped keep him grounded. Somewhat.

The call had helped more. Being able to hear Scott's voice and heartbeat while being surrounded by his mate's scent had helped to calm the part of him that wanted nothing more than to keep Scott near him, keep Scott safe.

The thought that he was at school was less than appealing. Even before the whole 'mate' thing had come up, the thought of Scott and his own Pack being in the school had made him just a little uncomfortable, considering _Gerard Argent_ was the current principal. Now? If not for the fact that he _knew_ Scott was with Pack, he wouldn't have been able to stay away.

The little detail of Gerard thinking Scott was 'helping' him didn't actually ease any of his anxiety. Sure, it meant the man probably wouldn't kill Scott—at least, not until he got what he wanted—but that didn't mean Scott was _safe_. The reluctant report of what had happened outside the hospital came to mind.

Gerard was threatening Scott's mother's safety and willing to hurt Scott himself to ensure obedience. That had backfired, but the Argent patriarch didn't know that yet.

Derek's head jerked up at with an uncomfortable realization; Gerard hadn't recently 'reinforced' his threat. Scott could be in far more immediate danger than he'd at first thought.

He snarled, feeling his teeth sharpen and glancing down to see claws tipping his fingers. Undoubtedly his eyes were glowing bright red. He forced back the changes. Scott wouldn't want him to show up at the school, at least not during class hours, not unless he had an undeniable excuse.

If he _did,_ Gerard could take it one of two ways: that Scott was doing as he'd been instructed, or that Scott was double-crossing him. Unfortunately, even the first could get Scott hurt as 'incentive'.

Derek growled again, realizing that Scott's mother might also be in danger. While he didn't feel the same irrationally powerful urge to protect her, there was a certain desire to see her safe, if mostly for Scott's sake. Mostly. He liked Melissa McCall; she was kind and accepting on a level he'd never expected.

And, while he couldn't safely go check on Scott, a visit to the hospital wasn't so risky. He could at least go see that Melissa knew to be careful.

_xxxx_

It was Isaac who noticed first, and Stiles wasn't sure whether to be chagrined or grateful. He was Scott's best friend; he should be the first to notice when things started to spiral downhill with his friend's mood or health. On the other hand, Isaac was a werewolf and part of the Pack that included both Scott and himself, now. Enhanced senses and Pack-induced protectiveness _had_ to count for something.

Also, Isaac was next to Scott, not behind him. Being able to see Scott's face would also make a difference, he supposed. Stiles shook his head, bringing his scattered thoughts back into focus. Isaac kept cutting worried glances towards the True Alpha, which prompted Stiles to examine his friend more closely.

Scott was sitting… oddly. He was hunched forward and visibly tense, and a quick glance showed the fingers resting against his desk were trembling.

"Scott?" Stiles asked, keeping his voice low enough not to attract the teacher's attention despite the relative quiet of the 'do your work' part of class that this particular teacher commonly assigned.

Scott _flinched._

Stiles sat up straighter, alarmed. "Scott?" he asked again, louder.

The teacher looked up from grading papers, but didn't say anything.

Isaac twisted in his seat, eying Scott more thoroughly, visibly concerned. "Scott?" he echoed Stiles.

Scott lowered his head, hands rising briefly to his temples, and the tremor visibly increased without anything supporting his arms. He curled further forward, bracing his weight against his desk.

"Are you okay?" Stiles demanded, actively worried.

"He doesn't _look_ okay," Isaac observed, casting a glance around the classroom to check how many people were paying attention. Scott was Pack. Pack looked out for Pack. And the humans in the room were most definitely _not_ Pack as far as the tall werewolf was concerned, with the notable exception of Stiles.

Stiles stood up and stepped forward, twisting to kneel next to Scott's desk and taking in the pallor and sheen of sweat. "I think he needs to go home," Stiles said lowly, glancing back to the clock. Still twenty minutes left of second period, and no _way_ was Scott going to make it to third.

Isaac nodded agreement and the teacher chose then to glance over again and a sharp voice cut across the classroom, drawing all attention to Stiles and Scott. "Stilinski, what are you doing out of your seat?"

Stiles didn't even spare the irritated teacher a glance as he reached out to grip Scott's forearm, "Scott, look at me," he urged quietly.

"Stilinski!"

Isaac stood up, drawing attention away from his Packmates, "Scott needs to go home," he stated, voice firm and clearly concerned.

Scott turned his head and opened his eyes for a moment before flinching them back closed again, apparently well aware of what had Stiles sucking in a worried breath. His irises were flickering with red, which was the last thing they needed in a school full of cameras that reported to Gerard. And, okay, those _probably_ didn't have color-reception good enough to pick out the non-glowing red mixed in with Scott's usual brown, but if Scott's control eroded any further…

Footsteps behind him had Stiles redirecting half his attention to the teacher, who was plainly aware that Scott's absence for the majority of the week before had been due to illness reported by his mother. Considering the fact that she was a hospital nurse, the teachers were inclined to believe she wasn't going to let him skip for something as benign as a cold.

"McCall?"

Scott gave his head the slightest of shakes, eyes still tightly closed, a low sound that was nothing short of _agonized_ leaking from his throat.

"I think he's relapsing," Stiles knew that wasn't the case, but if he'd judged this teacher right…

"Stilinski, take him to the nurse's office."

Stiles stood up, tugging gently at Scott's shoulder. Scott climbed slowly to his feet, refusing to open his eyes, and staggered.

Stiles had his shoulder braced under Scott's arm in a heartbeat, but Scott was taller and heavier than he was.

Isaac came to his rescue, dodging around his own desk to loop an arm around Scott's waist and pull Scott's other arm over his own shoulder. The teacher gave a nod of permission and the two half-carried a stumbling Scott into the hallway.

Once out of the classroom, they stopped. "You okay, man?" Stiles asked warily.

Scott kept his eyes closed but started taking more of his own weight. "Will be," he grunted. "Need to get out of here."

Isaac made as if to step away but Scott's hand gripped his shoulder and the Alpha shook his head. "Cameras."

"Right," Isaac turned the movement into adjusting his hold and the three made their way to the nurse's office.

Thankfully, unlike the middle school's central office-compound, Beacon Hills High had a series of fairly wide-spaced offices that weren't connected to each other and the nurse's office was well away from Gerard's.

If Gerard was even in the school…

"Scott? Can you hear Herr Argent?"

Isaac made a choking sound.

Scott was silent for several long moments, then shook his head. "No, but he might be doing paperwork or something," he murmured.

Stiles grimaced acknowledgement of the point and reached out to open the door to the nurse's office.

The woman at the desk looked up and immediately started to her feet, "Get him on the cot," she ordered, eyes on the obvious patient. "Name?"

"He's Scott McCall," Stiles informed as he let the supernaturally-strong Isaac settle Scott on the squeaky bed, unable to suppress his sympathetic grimace as his friend winced at the sound.

"Oh, I remember—he was ill most of last week. His mother called this morning and had me let his afternoon teachers know he might not be able to make it through the whole day. It looks like he crashed sooner than she expected."

Stiles blinked, then gave a half-smile. "Yeah. He's not contagious or anything, but…"

"I'll call his mom," the nurse assured. "He looks completely wiped out."

"Thanks," Isaac rested his hand on Scott's shoulder for several seconds before straightening.

Stiles moved over to the cot and reached down to squeeze Scott's arm gently, "Hang in there, buddy. They're sending you home."

Scott nodded and draped one arm over his eyes as though to keep out the light. The nurse promptly moved over to the door and flicked the switch for the overhead fluorescents, leaving only a small desk-lamp as a light-source in the room.

Stiles immediately decided she was the best school nurse he'd ever met.

Scott relaxed minutely, but didn't move his arm. He did, however, decide to speak up. "Stiles, Isaac… you should get back to class. Don't get in trouble on my account."

Isaac was visibly indecisive, and Stiles _really_ wanted to say 'Screw trouble, I'm staying', but Scott flicked his free hand.

"I'll be okay," he assured, voice still slow and soft.

The nurse made a 'shoo' gesture even as she lifted the desk-phone to her ear.

"Okay," Stiles sighed, tugging a still-reluctant Isaac towards the door. "Text me when you get home, Scott."

Scott shifted his head in something like a nod.

Stiles closed the door as soon as Isaac stepped past him and immediately turned his attention on the tall werewolf. "Can you keep an ear on him?"

Isaac nodded, "I was going to anyway."

Stiles gave a sharp nod as the two made their way back towards the classroom they'd abandoned, casting one last glance over his shoulder at the nurse's office. Rationally, he knew Scott was fine—it was the struggle to keep control that had him so worn down, not physical illness. Still, the unease remained.

If Gerard heard and decided to 'randomly' talk to the nurse…

Yeah, he really didn't want to know what could happen.

_xxxx_

Melissa blinked as a now-familiar form made his way towards her, shoulders tense and a deep frown on his face. She glanced down at her computer screen, saw nothing required immediate attention, and stepped around the counter to meet her unexpected visitor.

"Derek, is something wrong?"

He gave her a _look_, complete with eyebrows.

"Right, stupid question. Is there anything _unexpected_ wrong?"

He shifted, eyes darting to the other nurse at the counter, and apparently decided that they were out of normal human earshot considering the general noise. "With everything… I didn't think of it until about twenty minutes ago, but Scott mentioned Gerard Argent had threatened him. Since Scott isn't exactly easily intimidated, I'm guessing the threats include you."

Melissa blinked, shook her head, and made sure she'd heard that right. "What?"

"Just… don't go anywhere alone, and don't be home alone. He's got an image to keep up and he can't exactly sic the Kanima on you in plain sight. He wants to keep anything… _unusual_ from public notice."

"Don't go anywhere alone. All right. I can do that. What's 'the Kanima'?"

"The lizard-creature that threatened you at the police station. Right now, Gerard is controlling it."

Melissa grimaced at the memory, "I'll be careful," she promised.

Derek gave a short nod and started to turn away before stopping and turning towards the nurses' counter, where the woman who had been monitoring computer screens had picked up the phone. From Derek's sudden increase in tension, Melissa guessed whatever had caught his attention wasn't good.

"Melissa," her coworker called, "It's the school."

Her eyes widened and she jogged back to the counter to take the receiver, Derek at her shoulder.

A quick conversation gave all the information she needed. Scott was in no condition to be in class. A quick sideways glance showed Derek was listening—undoubtedly to both sides of the conversation—and was growing increasingly agitated. "I'm going to send a friend to pick him up," Melissa informed the school nurse. "I can't leave work, but he's right here and he's agreed to stay with Scott. He should be there in a few minutes."

Derek gave a short nod, turning to walk quickly down the hall.

Melissa ended the call by giving Derek's name and sighed, making her way back around the counter to hang up the phone. Apparently this was going to be more difficult than she had hoped. Add in the fact she apparently had an unstable stalker with a supernatural killing machine threatening her to force her son into doing something, and her life was just getting more and more complicated.

_xxxx_

_Post chapter note: I've noticed my review rate is dropping. That makes me wonder. I mean, I'm not going to do anything like purposefully hold out chapters or stop writing or anything like that, but I DO wonder if it has something to do with the content. I get that poor quality writing tends to get negative reviews and good writing tends to get positive... does that mean I'm just pulling off mediocre? And if so, any suggestions for improvement?_


	9. Chapter 8

_First off, I'd like to thank people for being so supportive. I guess I got a little insecure, there. Well, it _is_ my first story, so it can't be that unusual for insecurities to crop up, but I think they've been safely laid to rest. So, here's the latest chapter: wherein not much happens until the end._

_Chapter 8_

Derek strode to the school's front desk, "Where's the nurse's office?"

The clerk blinked up at him, visibly put off by the terseness of the question.

Derek barely held in his growl, "I'm here to pick up Scott McCall."

"Oh," the woman relaxed slightly, "I'm going to need you to sign this," she pushed a piece of paper at Derek and gestured to a mug of pens on the corner of the counter.

He skimmed the paper quickly—his paranoia didn't really allow for less—but on seeing it was just a release form so Scott would be marked 'excused' for the remainder of the day, he signed his name on the line at the bottom.

"The nurse's office is down that hall," the woman behind the desk pointed helpfully. "There's a sign on the door."

Derek gave her a curt nod and made his way down the indicated hall, more listening for Scott than paying attention to the name-plates on the doors. It didn't take long to pinpoint his mate's heartbeat and he opened the door between the sound and himself without bothering to knock.

Scott was lying on a cot in the corner, arm over his eyes and visibly tense. He made a muted sound and Derek was across the room in an instant, dropping to one knee to grip Scott's free arm.

The teen visibly relaxed at the contact, groaning softly as he shifted to sit up even as the nurse got over her shock at Derek's sudden appearance, standing and opening her mouth to berate him.

He cut a dismissive glance in her direction and returned his attention to his mate. He couldn't smell pain and the teen's heartbeat was slowing to something that was no longer bordering on shift-speed, but Scott wasn't actively responding. "Scott?"

Scott opened his eyes briefly to offer a tired smile, "Sorry," he murmured. "Couldn't make the day."

Derek shook his head, "It's okay. Come on, let's get you home."

Scott nodded and braced a hand against Derek's shoulder, levering himself up with apparent difficulty, and Derek felt his worry spike. Was he missing something? Scott shouldn't be feeling weak, but with the amount of weight pressing against him…

He stood smoothly, looping an arm under Scott's shoulders and trying to stay calm as Scott leaned heavily against him, casting a quick glance to the nurse.

She hadn't actually given him the lecture she'd been looking like she had wanted to, and her expression was no longer irritated. Instead, she looked oddly appeased. "His mother said you've been looking after him for the most part since he got sick," she stated, "So I'll assume you know more about what's wrong with him than I do."

Derek gave a nod, "Thank you for calling," he was genuinely grateful, no matter that it was the woman's job. Scott needed him, and the fact was that he wouldn't have been able to help without Melissa's okay.

The nurse returned his nod with a smile, "Get better, Scott," she waved them towards the door.

Derek was only too glad to lead Scott out of the school—and it was _lead._ Scott had his eyes tightly closed as he leaned into Derek's side, and Derek wasn't sure _why._

Once they were in his car and out of the school parking lot, Scott straightened up and opened his eyes, casting an apologetic look at Derek. "Sorry. Didn't mean to worry you, but Gerard's got cameras all over the school and if I acted any different after you'd come to get me…"

Derek nodded, a profound sense of relief sweeping through him, "So long as you're okay."

"Am now," Scott thought for a moment, then groaned. "I think I left my backpack in second period."

"Stiles'll get it," Derek was fairly certain of that. "Isaac will bring it after school if you ask him."

Scott nodded, "I never really realized how… _overwhelming_ all the people at school can be."

Derek grimaced sympathetically, "I think you had a harder time today than I did," he observed. The tang of strain on the air when he'd entered the nurse's office had been unmistakable. "Moving helped."

Scott moaned, "How am I going to make it through this school year?"

Derek shook his head, "We'll think of something."

_xxxx_

Stiles glanced at his phone as the screen lit up, the single-word message calming his own frayed nerves. Scott was home. That meant safe, because two Alpha werewolves were a force to be reckoned with at the best of times.

Attacking either one would not be 'the best of times' for whoever decided to try it. The Kanima might have a chance, provided it managed to paralyze one before they knew it was there, but Jackson was in school and since Jackson and the Kanima used the same body…

Yeah, Scott was safe.

Still, there was something about the recent situation that was bugging the Sheriff's son, but he couldn't quite put a finger on _what._ The last week had been hectic at best, but Stiles was _sure_ he was missing something.

Stiles' forehead hit the table with a dull thunk.

Isaac reached over and shoved his shoulder. Chemistry was _not_ a class to goof off in, especially if your name was Scott or Stiles. Harris didn't exactly like either of them—Isaac had heard stories of freshman year and melted beakers.

Stiles straightened up and flushed at Harris' glare, "Sorry," he muttered, "Just remembered something."

He wished. The head-meets-table gesture hadn't spontaneously knocked any realizations loose and Harris' snide comment washed over Stiles without him actually paying attention to it.

How the hell was he supposed to help if he couldn't even figure out what they were missing?

_xxxx_

Chris found himself having to _act_ in his own father's presence. He had heard Gerard speaking to Allison, heard words meant to _increase_ his daughter's rage and grief.

Gerard was deliberately trying to turn Allison into… another Kate.

That thought struck hard, how it must have been Gerard's 'training' that had the younger Kate willing to burn eleven people alive. There had been children in that house; _human_ children. Allison was too lost to her anger to listen to her own father, Gerard's words twisting the reality of what had happened to drive her further into her pain.

Chris gritted his teeth and found himself using what he knew of Hunting to find out exactly what his fa-no. That man was not the father he'd once thought he'd known. 'We hunt those who hunt us'. Gerard was the monster, now.

Chris stayed quiet, kept attention off himself, and _watched._

_xxxx_

Scott dropped down onto the living room couch and Derek moved to stand behind him, letting his hands drop onto too-tight shoulders. The older were pressed down with his palms and almost absently started trying to ease away his mate's physical tension.

Scott groaned, tipping his head forward as Derek worked the pads of his thumbs into the muscles of his neck. "Okay, ow. That feels strangely good."

Derek made an amused sound, "Feels like you have steel cables in your neck. Why are you still so tense?"

Scott started to shrug before letting his shoulders drop halfway through, "Probably just locked up."

Derek gave an acknowledging grunt. That _did_ make sense. Muscles could lock when they were tightened too much for too long.

Minutes passed in silence and Derek's hands moved down to work Scott's shoulders, earning an appreciative moan.

Derek huffed a laugh, pulling away, "Upstairs," he ordered as Scott rolled his head back to give him a puppy-eyed glare.

"Why?" Scott asked, standing up without waiting for a response.

"Because it's hard to reach your shoulders with you sinking into the couch and your desk-chair is more comfortable than the chairs in the kitchen."

"Huh," Scott considered Derek's height versus the height his own shoulders were at while sitting on the couch and conceded the point.

Derek rolled his eyes and herded him up the stairs to his room, shoving him gently towards his desk.

Scott settled himself in the rolling chair, facing the cushioned seat-back at a gesture from Derek. Warm hands settled on his shoulders again, kneading tight muscles through the cotton of his shirt.

Scott let himself lean forward against the back of the chair, resting his chin where pleather met hard plastic and not actually caring enough to find a more comfortable position. Between the massage and the nearness of his mate, he was more relaxed than he'd been all morning—including before school. Which probably hadn't helped him get through class, come to think.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" Scott wondered aloud, as there seemed to be a pattern and purpose to Derek's movements that he hadn't really expected.

"Took an intro class at a trade school," Derek replied, "Dropped out of the course after that, though. Laura had suggested it, but all of my temporary classmates had no sense of personal boundaries and while I can deal with that among my Pack… near-strangers are a whole different story."

Scott huffed a laugh, "Yeah, I could see that being a problem."

They lapsed back into comfortable silence and Scott let his mind drift. Within a few minutes, he found himself thinking of the last time Derek had touched him so purposefully, if for an entirely _different_ purpose.

Being sixteen, his reaction wasn't entirely unexpected.

Derek's hands paused and Scott groaned, tipping forward to bang his forehead against the seat-back.

Derek chuckled, moving his hands back up to knead Scott's neck. "Honestly? I'm surprised you've held out this long."

Scott gave an unintelligible grumble that Derek was apparently capable of deciphering anyway.

"You're sixteen, male, and a werewolf. I _was_ your age once."

Scott shifted, "Being a werewolf makes it worse?"

"That's what they tell me," Derek was glad Scott couldn't see him smirking. "Still, we've pretty much been in each others' constant presence for almost two days with you healthy and you've been remarkably controlled. What set you off?"

Scott growled.

Derek flicked the back of his head. "I was trying to be professional," he explained, "So, if it was something I did, I would like to know."

Scott twisted to glare at him, though it was more mortified than intimidating. "I just started _thinking,_ okay?"

Derek raised an eyebrow at his mate, pointedly not saying anything.

Scott groaned, flushing, "Two nights ago, all right?"

Derek's lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, Scott's expression just shy of hilariously embarrassed. He couldn't quite hold back his desire to tease, though. "Should I be flattered?"

Scott growled, more forcefully than before, and _moved._

Derek found himself flat on his back on the floor, Scott glaring down at him with his arms folded petulantly, and he swept a leg out to knock his mate's feet out from under him.

Scott caught himself on his hands only to be tumbled sideways as Derek rolled, ending up pinned beneath his mate's greater weight—and while his strength could more than make up the difference, Derek managed to catch him completely off-guard with a very thorough kiss.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," Derek stated after pulling back, eyes glinting with amused affection. "I _am_ your mate."

Scott huffed, fisting a hand in Derek's shirt to yank him back down.

_xxxx_

Derek jerked sharply as Scott's phone gave a buzz on the coffee table right next to his head and a quick glance showed a familiar number. Derek shrugged and traded his book for the phone. "Erica?"

"_Derek?"_ Boyd's voice came from the other end of the line, muted enough that he probably wasn't the one holding the phone.

"_My phone,"_ shuffling indicated Erica was moving further away from Boyd.

"_Hey, we're worried, too!"_ Isaac sounded put out by the fact his Packmate was moving away when she had the line to his Alpha.

Derek rolled his eyes, sitting up. "Scott's fine. I'm fine. Scott is making lunch."

Stiles sounded even more put out than Isaac when his voice came over the line, "_We don't all have super-hearing!"_

Erica, who would have been ignoring Stiles entirely not too long before, answered, actually sounding contrite. _"Derek says they're both fine and Scott is making lunch."_

Derek found himself oddly pleased. That meant 'his' Pack was integrating Stiles, who was essentially Scott's First-Beta, for all that he wasn't a werewolf. Normally there wasn't a question of Pack-merging when two Alphas ended up mates, but the fact that Scott's Pack was all human had brought up some concern. And, all right, Stiles was the only member of Scott's Pack that acknowledged it openly which _had_ to make it easier for the Betas to accept him, but the fact that they _were_ accepting him was a very big step in the right direction.

"_Good,"_ Stiles sounded relieved. _"Scott doesn't eat much when he's stressed."_

Derek blinked, "That's good to know."

Erica hummed agreement, _"We'll have to keep an eye on that."_

Derek considered her tone and smirked, "You're going to start mothering him, aren't you?"

Erica's return smirk was audible, _"Oh, yes."_

"_Oh, right,_" Stiles piped up again, _"Scott left his backpack. Isaac offered to bring it to him after the game."_

"The game?" Derek paused, "I'd forgotten about that. I know Scott wanted to play…"

"I can't, though," Scott stated, carrying two plates of chicken and rice in from the kitchen and setting one in front of Derek. "Too suspicious, considering this morning."

Derek nodded, plucking 'his' fork from the chicken breast it had been stabbed in, "We could watch," he offered. "Bundle you up in a sweatshirt and pretend you're feeling bad."

Scott nodded, considered the phone in Derek's hand, and added on out loud. "Yeah. I'd feel better with all of us in one place. Gerard's been quiet for too long."

"_That's a cheerful thought,"_ Erica snorted.

"_What? What'd he say?"_ Stiles demanded.

Derek interrupted, "We'll be at the game tonight. Stick together—Scott's right. Gerard _has_ been quiet for too long," he ended the call and eyed the meal Scott had managed to put together in less than twenty minutes. "How do you cook that fast?"

Scott grinned and waved his fork, "We keep leftovers in the freezer for easy meals."

_xxxx_

The game was fairly quiet—in the sense of 'no terrible supernatural happenings'—up until about thirty seconds after it ended and a player simply collapsed on the field.

Scott started to his feet, a familiar blood-scent on the air. "Jackson—Derek!"

Neither one of them could make out individual heartbeats through the suddenly milling mass as more attention was drawn towards the downed player and Melissa forced her way through the panicking crowd with her son and Derek.

Derek's paranoia was a few steps ahead of Scott's blind panic at Pack-blood spilled and he ordered Erica and Boyd to stay with Stiles as he followed Scott.

Jackson's heart wasn't beating by the time they got to him and Melissa called an ambulance.

Isaac crouched near Scott, "Look at his hands," he muttered.

Blood.

"He did it to himself?" Scott asked, suddenly alarmed. "Gerard needed a distraction—Stiles!"

"Erica and Boyd are with him," Derek assured.

"But Gerard wouldn't kill his strongest weapon," Scott focused on the problem at hand once assured of his First-Beta's safety, "At least, not just for a distraction."

Derek nodded agreement. "There has to be more going on, here."

Quite suddenly, Scott snapped his eyes closed, clawed fingers digging into the grass. Isaac reached out and caught his shoulder while Derek latched onto his forearm. It had hit.

Jackson—Scott's Packmate—was _dead._ Scott was… had been… Jackson's Alpha, for all that the arrogant teen hadn't acknowledged it. And Derek knew full well the rage incited by the murder of Pack, knew full-well that it was multiplied in the Alpha.

"Scott," he stated, feeling muscles tense under his hand, hearing a growl so low it made his bones vibrate. Scott was on the edge of a full Alpha-shift, which they really couldn't afford to have happen on the Lacrosse field. "Scott, you need to calm down. You _can't_ shift here."

Scott drew a shuddering breath, fangs glinting in the stadium lights.

"Scott?" Melissa asked worriedly.

"Scott." Derek kept his attention on his mate, "Listen to my heart. Concentrate on that—nothing else. You hear me?"

A jerky nod answered him and Derek waited as Scott slowly relaxed enough to withdraw claws and fangs, to open eyes that didn't glow red.

"We need to go," he stated softly, casting a glance at the bloodied form of Scott's Packmate.

"No," Scott tensed again, though not shift-tense. "I can't just…"

"Scott. You _can't_ be here when the paramedics move him."

The True Alpha's breath hitched and he crumpled against Derek's arm.

Derek guided him to his feet, "Isaac?"

The tall teen moved to stand by Melissa, "I'll stay with Scott's mom."

Scott cast him a grateful look and Derek nodded. "Come on, Scott. We need to meet with the others."

_xxxx_


End file.
